Domestic Holiday
by torchwoodtimelord
Summary: Part of the "Harborne Tales" series. It's Christmastime on Earth, and the Doctor's latest adventure leaves him needing a holiday. So of course the TARDIS emergency landing codes send him to Jack and his unconventional little family.
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** Domestic Holiday  
><strong>Series:<strong> The James Harborne Tales  
><strong>Fandoms:<strong> Doctor Who/Torchwood  
><strong>Fic!Verse:<strong> Resurrection!Verse  
><strong>Pairings:<strong> 10/Jack  
><strong>Author:<strong> Z-sama (dA user _the-lady-harkness_)  
><strong>Beta:<strong> TWTL

_**DISCLAIMER: We don't own Torchwood. We don't own Doctor Who. We wish we could own them both, but we can't. Hell, we'd settle for the K9 spin-off pilot that failed many years ago... but sadly, we can't have that either. All of that is owned by the BBC.**_

* * *

><p>The Doctor looked at himself in the reflective glass of the one-way mirror. His suit was scorched; his hair once perfectly combed was now wild and singed. He noticed he'd forgotten to shave before leaving the TARDIS a few days ago.<p>

"What are we going to do?" shouted the female journalist helping him to barricade the door with their bodies.

The Doctor groaned. "Tell you what. I survive this, I'm taking a bloody holiday."

The raggedy bum to his left was beaming. "Froody!" he said. "Don't forget-"

He was interrupted by a man in a bathrobe who was currently being crushed by the Doctor's right thigh and the woman's shoulders. "If you say _towel_ I'll strangle you with yours!"

"No need to be so down, Arthur my man! Remember the first golden rule of hitchhiking. Don't Panic!"

From the other side of the door came the shouts of the Vogons as they tried to open the door. "Resistance is useless!"

The Doctor looked at the one-way mirror again. The four of them scrunched up against the door, all equally singed and scorched, reminded him of that time with Jack and Martha. But these weren't cannibal descendants of the human race they were trying to keep out...

These were class A Bureaucrats, one of the few things in the universe that could make the ancient Time Lord run in the opposite direction.

Mainly because of all his parking tickets.

"I think," he said, but was beaten to it by Ford Prefect.

"I have a cunning plan to get us out of this!"

"Oh this should be good..." Remarked Trillian Astra sarcastically.

Arthur Dent groaned. "Again. Strangle. With towel!" he reminded Ford.

"Leave the cunning plans to me, mate. Speaking of..." The Doctor pulled what appeared to Trillian and Arthur as a rather improbable tea kettle from his pants pocket. "Anyone got a string? I saw myself do this once."

**_209 Altarian hours later..._**

**_Which is only 42 minutes in Earth time..._**

A large wooden box appeared in a sleepy small town. This town was usually of little importance. None more so than this occasion.

The doors swung open and a sickly pink smoke billowed out before a man tumbled into the snow. He looked as if he'd been through a fire. Face smudged, eyes red from the smoke.

The doors of his wonderful box slammed closed on their own accord, and the man remained face down and unmoving. And the snow quietly drifted down in the night.

**o0o**

They were wrapped up tight in their parks. Hands shoved deep into their pockets as they walked down the sidewalk. The body in the red parka was shorter and more animated behind its green knit scarf. The other, wearing a black parka with a navy blue knit scarf over the face merely grunted in reply as they walked.

It was still 2 days before Christmas and the pair had yet to buy the perfect gift.

They wanted this holiday to be perfect. This one to be special. Because this time next year it could be different. One or both of them could be spending it on a dismal battlefield up north. This time next year they may be...

They didn't want to dwell on it.

Instead they focused on the positive. On the present. Focused on making **this** Christmas the best yet.

These two residents of the small and unimportant town were on their way to a lesser frequented and more sordid part of the area in their search when the shorter parka pulled a gloved hand from a pocket and pointed with a gasp. There in the corner of the old, unused library parking lot was a large blue box, half buried in snow.

"It can't be!" the shorter parka gasped.

Bare hands were pulled from the pockets of the black parka. One reached up to pull the scarf away to reveal a young man's face. The other took gloved hand in his. They ran as fast as the snow would let them.

The cold air stung their lungs, and bit every inch of flesh exposed to it. But they didn't care. Their blood pumping, their hearts beating faster. That box was a promise. Adventure, excitement, and the universe.

As they came nearer the red parka ran ahead, racing her companion now. But she was not careful, and once she was but a few feet from the box, she tumbled forward into a roll.

Her companion was soon at her side, pulling her scarf away from her striped face. "Are you alright?" he asked as she rubbed her ankle.

She nodded and looked at the place where she'd stumbled. There in the snow she could just about make out... "A hand!" the girl exclaimed, pointing to the spot.

The young man left her side to dig through the snow. More and more of the body became clear. More and more he saw the brown suit. His heart beat harder as the cold bit into his hands. His fingers were numb by the time he was able to pull the man out and roll him onto his back.

"He's not breathing!" the young man exclaimed, then without thinking checked for a pulse. Nothing... Nothing...

Wait, there. An awkward, faint beat. Unlike what he'd learned in school. Unlike anything he'd known. But it was there, that strange quadruple beat.

The girl had crawled over to him and was fumbling for her phone. The other was searching his pockets. Rifling through them he found a yo-yo, a bag of sweets, a cell phone, another bag of sweets, a very broken and very improbable tea kettle, a book on philosophy according to _The Lion King,_ and a ticket stub to a movie from 1941.

"Now's not the time to pickpocket him!"

"I'm not! I'm looking for his key. We've got to get him inside out of the cold." At last he managed to get his arm into the pocket, up to his elbow. "Gods these things are deep... Almost got it."

He pulled his arm back out, fingers wrapped up in a string with the inconspicuous key hanging at the end. He got up and went to the doors. He could hardly feel the metal key in his fingers as he put it in the lock and turned. Snow fell inward as he opened the right side door.

Acrid pink smoke billowed out into his face. Squinting he could just see the emergency lights were on but little else. Even the normal hum of the machinery was absent. "Okay..." he said, unable to take the smoke any longer. "Plan B. Call my dad."

The young man struggled to shut the door again. Kicking the pile of snow further inside before managing to pull it closed tightly. Behind him the girl in the red parka was chattering urgently to her companion's father.

James sight and unzipped his warm, fluffy black parka. He pulled it off and turned around. The girl's eyes widened. She hurriedly finished on the phone as the stone-cold traveler was pulled up and wrapped in the parka.

"You'll freeze to death out here like that!"

He grinned and wrapped his navy blue scar tighter around his neck to keep warm. With one swift move of his hand he snatched up a bag of sweets, offering her one. "Have a jelly baby while you wait." He pulled one from the bag and ate it with a rather annoying grin.

She hissed, showing her annoyance at his grin. "If you didn't smell like pumpkin spice and hot tea, I'd kill you for that one," she grumbled. But she reached a gloved hand into the paper bag and had one anyway.

The two settled down against the TARDIS, the ship's owner propped up between them in an attempt to warm him back up as they waited for the boy's father to show up in his beat up truck.

**o0o**

The Doctor woke to the sound of raised voices. His head ached, and his limbs felt stiff. Looking around from the bed he realized he was in someone's home.

The door creaked as it opened. The shouting was louder now as a striped girl entered with a tray.

The Doctor sat up, letting the heavy blankets fall to his waist. Quickly he realized he was wearing a t-shirt just a bit too big. It was pale green. "Blech," he said as the tray was set across his lap.

"Well it's good to see you again, too," she hissed sarcastically.

He grinned up at her. "No. No. Meant the shirt." Then a more important question struck him ."How did I-"

"Well," she said, sitting on the side of the queen sized bed. "James and I were on our way to Cheapside-"

"London?"

"No. The bad part of town. We all call it Cheapside because the rent's cheap. So it attracts-"

"Ah... I see. What did you want down there? It's filled with ruffians."

She pinched between her eyes with a sigh. "Eat your soup and let me finish," she said.

The Doctor, having had the uncomfortable knowledge that the teenager tended to get a bit bitey when annoyed, picked up his spoon and slurped his soup.

He was pleased to discover it was banana flavored.

"Anyway," she said, well aware of the shouting elsewhere in the house. "We were on our way to Cheapside to this groovy shop that sells odd stuff. We wanted to get Jack the perfect gift. Something to remind him of the past... or... well, the future. Depends on how you look at it."

The Doctor nodded his understanding as he slurped his soup.

Then... "So why am I not wearing pants?" he asked.

She scratched her cheek and grinned. "Well... see... your suit was scorched, and wet. And the only pants we have that'll fit are James' and... He hasn't done his laundry for a while. But hey! My ex-boyfriend's shirt fits! And it's clean!"

There was an awkward pause as the Doctor thought about his situation. A door was slammed somewhere in the house after the shouting abruptly ended.

"The TARDIS?" he asked. "I don't think I parked it nearby."

"No. You were buried in the snow next to it. James took your key to get in but-"

"Smoke. Pink, yes?"

She nodded. "What happened, Doctor?"

He was about to answer when the door creaked open again. She turned to see Jack passing through it. "Let him eat and rest, Jess. The man's still thawing out."

"You're not still-"

"Absolutely furious because my son's an utter nuisance? Yes. But it can't be helped." He came to the bed and sat opposite the girl at the Doctor's side. "Go on now. I could use a hand in the kitchen."

The Doctor gave her a kind smile. "Go on. He's not going to bite."

"Not hard at any rate," Jack said with a laugh.

Reassured by their usual joking manners, Jesse left them. She closed the door carefully behind her.

The Doctor finished his soup in the awkward silence that hung between them. When he set the spoon down in the empty bowl, Jack took the tray and set it on one of the nightstands. "How do you feel?" he asked.

"Groggy."

"That'll be the oxygen starvation. Even your lungs can't go that long on respiratory bypass." He grabbed one of the Doctor's hands before the other man could pull it away. He checked the reflexes of his fingers. "Slow," he said. "But you'll bounce back. Not bad for a man who spent all night as a popsicle."

He let go and before the Doctor could stop him Jack pressed a warm hand to his forehead. "Hmmm... Might be best if you stayed in bed a while longer."

"Jack, I'm fine. Just a little frozen. Not the first time and it won't be the last. Time Lord physiology is resilient. And, you don't know a thing-" The Doctor's tone was harsh.

"I've had a long time to learn about it, thanks," Jack interrupted.

He wasn't used to being treated like this. As if he were a sick patient. He was the Doctor, damn it! He didn't get sick, and he didn't need to be nursed!

But Jack only smiled. A warm hearted one the Doctor had leaned was only for him. Whenever he saw it on his former companion's face he wondered what he was thinking behind those sad blue eyes. "You had the kids scared half to death. Well, Jess anyway. She thought you were dead. What were you thinking just diving into weather like this, Doc? And without your coat?"

"Emergency landing," was the reply. "Didn't exactly get to choose my landing pad."

"Can you feel your toes?" It was an odd, random question.

"What kind of-"

"Just a simple yes or no will suffice, Doc."

"For your information my toes are all quite fine. I think. A bit numb, actually." He tried to wiggle them. The patch of blanket covering his feet wiggled, but the Doctor frowned. They were, indeed, rather numb.

Jack gave a small laugh and reached for a control connected to one of the blankets. He turned the dial up a few clicks. "That should help.

The older man rose to his feet and picked up the tray. "If you get too hot, the control's hanging down the side."

As Jack was leaving, the Doctor asked, "Jack, why?"

There. On his face the Doctor saw that warm, sad smile again. "If you get sick," Jack said, "Who's going to save the world if you take a few days off?" He left the Doctor alone then, closing the door quietly behind him.

The Time Lord sat in the bed beneath the blankets, willing his numb toes as he worked through the events leading up to how he had gotten here. He didn't know what year it was, and he wasn't sure where along Jack's timeline this particular visit fell. He'd have to ask one of them when they'd last seen him.

Silently he cursed Arthur Dent and his hitchhiking sidekick for suckering him into that bubble universe with the Vogons. If he hadn't had to use the unstable Tea Kettle of Rassilon with ordinary twine rather than nylon rope he wouldn't be in this predicament.

The Doctor lay back down and pulled the warm blankets over his head, muttering, "I should have let him strangle the bloody pormwrangler with his bloody towel."


	2. Chapter 2

**Title:** Domestic Holiday  
><strong>Series:<strong> The James Harborne Tales  
><strong>Fandoms:<strong> Doctor Who/Torchwood  
><strong>Fic!Verse:<strong> Resurrection!Verse  
><strong>Pairings:<strong> 10/Jack  
><strong>Author:<strong> Z-sama (dA user _the-lady-harkness_)  
><strong>Beta:<strong> TWTL

_**DISCLAIMER: We don't own Torchwood. We don't own Doctor Who. We wish we could own them both, but we can't. Hell, we'd settle for the K9 spin-off pilot that failed many years ago... but sadly, we can't have that either. All of that is owned by the BBC.**_

* * *

><p>The Doctor woke sometime in the late evening. It was dark in the room, and outside. He tried to wiggle his toes and was delighted to find they had regained full feeling.<p>

He threw the blankets off and swung his legs around. Standing on his feet again he felt right as rain. Mostly. He was still a wee bit groggy.

Feeling around on the bedside table he found a lamp. Turning it on he blinked, adjusting to the sudden light. Now he was better able to take a look about the room. He realized quickly it was not the guest suite he had been accustomed to on his visits. And the bedroom lacked the trappings of human adolescence. As a matter of fact, it was rather sparse in decor. A chest of drawers. A small writing desk and chair. The bed with a nightstand on either side. In the corner sat a tall, narrow bookshelf. It was so full that many volumes were crammed in and even the Doctor could tell it would be hard to pull them back out again.

But not a single picture. No posters, no decorative wall art. Nothing save a heavy set of blue curtains at the window opposite the bed.

He turned back to the chest of drawers. Folded neatly on top was his brown pinstripe suit. Freshly laundered and repaired. A quick search of the bottomless pockets told him they'd been emptied. No doubt Jack had done it.

Quickly the Doctor dressed, but was unable to locate his trainers. Quietly he left the room in search of them. Padding down the hall towards what he knew was the main sitting room the Doctor could hear a girl's laughter. When he poked his head out of the corridor he was greeted by the smiling face of Jesse, who had been amusing herself with the rather shiny orange bauble hanging from a branch of a Christmas tree.

"Hey, sleepyhead!" she called with a laugh as the batted at the bauble like a cat. "The boys are out right now. We didn't want to wake you. How you feeling now?"

"Better," he said, and he meant it too. Remembering that he had no clue what time he was in, he asked," What year is it?"

"2017. December 23, 2017." Then as if she were reading his mind she added, "When did you last visit?"

"June. This year," he replied, not elaborating that it had been five years since then for him.

His answer seemed to satisfy her and she nodded. "Same for us. So, we're relatively around the same ballpark. Not the same inning, but nearly there."

"So..." the Doctor said, racking his vast brain for something to say. Anything really.

"So... What happened?" Jesse asked, abandoning the bauble in favor of something far more interesting. "TARDIS. Pink smoke..." She sat in the floor cross-legged.

The Doctor rubbed the back of his neck. "Well, see, there were these Vogons and I sort of owed a group of hitchhikers a favor."

"And?"

"And the TARDIS should **never** go into hyperspace while I'm using the Tea Kettle of Rassilon."

Jesse was wide eyed as she listened. When she urged him to continue, he finally sat down in a nearby recliner. It was quite comfortable.

He told the harrowing tale which had brought him here in an emergency landing. About the distress call from Ford Prefect and having to jump to a bubble universe created by the Vogons, who used it as a waiting room. His jaunts through hyperspace which made the TARDIS a little queasy to begin with.

Then he explained about the little known Tea Kettle of Rassilon. That it had once belonged to the ancient and powerful ruler of his equally ancient and powerful people, now extinct. And that he had nicked it from Rassilon's tomb when he was caught up in a deadly game in the Forbidden Zone. He felt a good cuppa tea and a proper kettle wasn't enough of a payment for his rather extraordinary services but it would have to do.

When asked why, the Doctor replied that the kettle was rumored to make tea, good tea, out of anything you put in it. And it would, when used properly, help navigate through improbability space.

Unfortunately for the Doctor, the kettle's warning label had come off, so he didn't know it could explode when used in hyperspace... Which was all Ford Prefect's fault for having left it plugged in when they made the jump.

"...So I dropped them off with my old buddy Zaphod before things could get worse and tried to put out the fires in the control room. The TARDIS locked in on a set of emergency coordinates... and here I am."

"But what about the smoke? And the TARDIS?" Jesse asked, leaning forward in anticipation.

He shrugged. "She'll repair on her own. Well, the main problems. Give her a few days. Then I can go in and do a bit of minor maintenance. She'll be right as rain.

"So you'll be staying for Christmas then?" A flat voice.

The Doctor turned around in the chair to see James in his black parka, scarf hanging from his neck and his hood down.

"Didn't hear you come in," Jesse said, getting to her feet.

"Seems like." The Doctor studied his face to gauge the boy's reaction. Then, he saw a twitch at the corner of his mouth. Just the smallest micro-hint of a smile.

"Good thing dad made you a stocking then."

Jesse was excited, noticing the large bag under her best friend's arm. "Did you get it? The perfect gift?"

He looked to the Doctor again, then back at Jesse. He gave a small nod. "Yeah. I got it. Come on, I'll show you."

"Hey," the Doctor called, making them stop in the hall outside James' bedroom door. "Where's your dad?"

"Oh, he said he had some more stuff to do. I think he went to Wal-Mart."

The Doctor raised an inquisitive brow. "What's he need a wall for?"

As one the teenagers sighed "It's a superstore. Open 24 hours every day of the week," James said. "They sell almost anything you could want."

"And it's HELL this close to Christmas."

James nudged her towards the door, and soon the two were on the other side.

The Doctor looked around the sitting room. A tall synthetic tree made to resemble a pine sat where he knew a bookshelf had once been. Blue twinkling lights wrapped around it from top to bottom. Little plastic icicles hung from the branches. Small and large round baubles of various colors scattered amongst an assortment of mismatched ornaments.

The Doctor got up to take a closer look at it. Among the metal and plastic branches he found a plastic banana, a pickle, a color changing chunk of cement he easily remembered giving James after one of their past adventures.

There were little hand made things, too. All signed in childish handwriting either _Jack_ or _Jess._

He took a step back, then another so he could get a better look at the face tree as a whole. And at the top, twinkling on and off in time to the strand of blue light was a box. Not just any box, mind.

A small scale replica of his home. His ship. Complete with a tiny hand painted sign on the left hand door.

When he'd left the bedroom he'd wanted to find his shoes and collect his things. He had wanted to get back to the TARDIS and get to work. The sentimental old girl could have stranded him anywhere, anywhen.

But she'd chosen here, and now.

Perhaps since she would need a few days rest to do her repairs a little bit of _domestic_ wouldn't be too bad after all.

**o0o**

Jack glanced at his watch while digging in his coat pocket for his keys. The teens should have been in bed, which meant he'd have a quiet night to finish wrapping gifts. Sometimes he found the whole domestic thing such a bother. He often wondered if he'd made the right decision to hide away here after all.

Unlocking the door he let himself in to find the front room... not as he'd left it this afternoon. Instead of a couch where a couch should have been there was a long folding table. On it a pile of sweets and half constructed gingerbread houses.

"What the hell?"

The Doctor's head poked up from a pile of cushions. Jesse peeked out from behind a turned over chair and James, his face streaked with royal icing as if it were war paint was perched precariously on a stool with a slingshot. Ready to unleash peppermint tasting vengeance.

"Oh! Hey Jack!" the Doctor greeted him cheerfully from his cushion fort, gumdrops stuck to his face. "We were in the middle of building the finest gingerbread village when Jessica here seized control of the jelly baby supply lines and would not release them unless we paid her taxes in bacon."

"They were on MY beachfront property!" the girl protested. "Therefore I have say in who has access to my supply!"

"And then while I was counterstriking by declaring myself master of the gumdrop factories she decided to unionize my work force!"

"And then James launched an attack and seceded from the village. And soon we were embroiled in a bitter civil war," Jesse continued.

James grunted from up on his perch. "I was winning," was all he had to say on the subject.

Jack stared at them in disbelief. Then he regained his composure and went back to the front door to fetch his shopping. When he turned back to them, he said "This. Gets cleaned up. **Now.** Then you two go to bed."

The Doctor grinned triumphantly. "Badaboombah! I win!"

"**No**, Doc. You... Just get cleaned up, would ya." Jack carefully then picked his way across the candy strewn warzone and into the sitting room beyond. From there he took his shopping into the spare bedroom, now piled high with storage boxes and bags of random things. Finding a clear space he emptied his bags and set to work.

Those gifts weren't going to wrap themselves.

"I don't hear cleaning!" he shouted.

Seconds later he heard a girl's voice as she swore, the Doctor's as he was pulling candy off his face that had hardened and became quite difficult to remove, and the heavy footfalls of James as he cleaned while he'd rather be chucking candies at them all.

Smiling to himself, Jack cut a large piece of snow man printed paper and wrapped a gift for the Doctor.

**o0o**

Jack emerged from the room over an hour later, arms laden with boxes, bags, and assorted other gifts.

The Doctor was just stepping out of James' bedroom and saw a mountain of wobbly boxes. He padded across the floorboards, his search for shoes momentarily halted, to steady to top boxes before they toppled over.

"Thanks," said Jack from behind them.

"You wouldn't know where my shoes got to, would you?"

With the stack wobbling in his arms Jack attempted to carefully navigate the hallway. "Mind taking half, Doc? I can't see a thing."

"Oh! Oh, of course." The Doctor carefully reached for one of the middle boxes and slowly lifted it up. When half the stack was safely removed, he could see Jack's face. For the first time since his arrival, and now with a much clearer head, the Doctor really looked at him.

The faint laughter lines around his mouth. A few slight creases in his forehead that weren't there the last time he'd seen the man from his own perspective of time. But his hair, oh that full head of hair that the Doctor swore was probably still soft to the touch, was no longer a solid dark chocolate. No. Age, 200 years and more's worth, had seen to that.

Despite that, the Doctor smiled. Those gentle streaks, thin and few, of silver suited him quite well. Made him look more... not mature, no. Jack would never be considered mature. Not with his impish, downright childish behavior throughout his very long life. But...

Blue eyes seemed to twinkle as Jack smiled. That, the Doctor knew, would never fade. "You're staring," Jack said teasingly.

The Doctor narrowed his eyes, puffed out his cheeks, and then let out a long, slow breath. "Just thinking," he said.

"About how amazingly irresistible I am?"

"No. I was trying to work out in my vastly superior mind the rate at which you age." The Doctor started for the living room, feeling he had successfully delivered a suitable and believable reason for his study. "It's been a curiosity of mine for the last 27 years. Bumping into you as often as I do, I've been able to see you at different points along the temporal axis."

"So you weren't undressing me with your eyes?" Jack joked, but was a little disappointed. "Not even a little?"

"Nope," the Doctor said.

"And I'm just some sort of hobby? Or a pet?"

"Hobby. Well, I say hobby but what I really mean is more of an academic study. Purely scientific." The Doctor shrugged, causing the boxes in his arms to rise and fall as they left the hallway. He left the short stack by the tree. "I thought a study of you would be helpful for my manuals. And it will be very enlightening in my further understanding of what James is if I fully understand his, well..."

"Mother," Jack offered, setting his stack down and getting to his knees. The Doctor moved out of the way as the Captain added the gifts to those already under the tree, one by one. He continued to speak. "He already knows if that's what you're worried about."

"What? How? When?"

"Keep your voice down," Jack hissed as he placed the last gift beneath the tree. "And I had to tell him. It's not like everyone can do what we do, or has a man pop up in his backyard with a magic box. He was going to find out eventually."

The Doctor thought this over a moment. "And me?" he asked.

Jack nodded, then rose to his feet. "He came to that one on his own. He was very upset about it."

"What, that I'm his-"

"No. That we lied to him about it," Jack said. He then glanced down at the Doctor's feet. The Time Lord was wiggling his toes and had his hands in his pockets now. "We should get you some shoes."

"That's what I've been looking for," he replied, now reminded of his quest for footwear. "Where'd you lot put them?"

"Put them?" Jack looked back up at his face and blinked. Then he laughed. "Doc, you weren't wearing any!"

The Doctor made a clicking sound with his mouth as he mulled this thought over. "Well," he said. "That explains a lot."

"Why your feet were frozen stiff?" Jack teased, back to his old self again.

"Yes, actually. Maybe we could discuss the problems of this while you find me a pair."

Jack smirked. "Don't have any that fit."

"Surely I've left a pair or two lying around somewhen."

Jack shook his head and started listing off and counting on his fingers the various items the Doctor has left in his home over the years. He didn't list them all, just the most random of things. "DNA resequencer. Life jacket. The crown of Henry 8. An exploding dreidel. An aphrodisiac cigar... Which sent Jesse into a fit of primal Sardosi rage. Seriously, who puts catnip in a damn cigar?"

"It was funny though," the Doctor offered, pulling a hand out of his woefully empty pocket and scratching his cheek.

"A jacket made of infinity tweed, highly flammable," Jack continued. "A boulder made of petrified Swiss cheese. A Danish copy of _The Lion King._ A rubber duck with a very suggestive expression and assorted attachments."

"Oh yes..." the Doctor said with a fond smile. "The tourist shop on Eroticon 8. Surprisingly child friendly. I really must give those robots a call. Really sweet, as far as robotic sister wives go."

And Jack continued still. "A pizza bill you still haven't paid. And the sword made from the shards of Narsil."

"Hey hey now," The Doctor protested. "That was a gift for James from the royal family of Gondor for his help. I couldn't not let him keep it!"

"But no shoes," Jack said, now quite done. "Not a single one."

And at this, the Doctor's smile faded. "The one time I need the bloody things..."

**o0o**

They lay quietly in the dark. James in his bed and his bizarre best friend Jesse on her favorite perch. A bookshelf next to the window. A narrow space at the top between wood and ceiling just big enough for her to fit. It was covered in a fluffy blanket to keep her warm.

The boy had given up ages ago trying to get her to sleep in a chair, let alone an actual bed.

The Doctor had left them quite some time ago in his quest for footwear. He'd tried on a few pairs of James' trainers with no success. They were a wee bit too small. And pinched in the toes.

Jesse sighed. "Still awake?"

"Yeah." His voice was low.

Jesse dangled a leg and an arm off the bookcase. If she'd had a tail, it would have swished aimlessly back and forth beside her leg. Instead she cradled her head with the arm still up on the shelf with the rest of her. "Wonder how Holly's doing..." She trailed off, not needing to say more. James understood her meaning.

Holly had been a good friend of theirs. One of the Brain Trust, a group of intelligent teen rebels who struggled to change things in their town. Throughout all of New Dixie. A group of which both Jesse and James were part.

And last week many of their number had been taken. Conscripted to the war up north...

"And Bobby," James said. Jesse could hear him shift beneath his blankets. "Reckon they were posted together?"

"I like to think so." She turned her attention to the window below her. The wind had picked up... And so had the snow. The worst part of the blizzard was still to come. Of that she had no doubt. Jesse watched out the window as the trees swayed in the darkness and the snow quietly drifted down to Earth. But his voice caught her attention again.

"When June comes, run away with me."

"What?" She turned her head to look at him again. Her superior night vision allowed her to see the details of his face, even in the dark. He was serious. "James, we can't."

"Sure we can. We just pack a bag, choose a direction, and go. It's not hard."

"And what will we do for money? If we cross the boarders without papers, we'll be shot straight away. Well... I will at any rate. Don't know about you." She moved her dangling arm back and forth lazily.

"I can forge some. It's not hard. And you can do whatever you want. I'll do odd jobs, and fix things."

She smiled into her arm, then lifted her head some. "And where will we go, Mr. Fix-It?"

"That sucks. I think _Jack of All Trades_ sounds much better," he said. "I don't know... Anywhere. Everywhere. As long as we've got each other, I know we'll be fine."

"And what about your parents?" she asked in all seriousness now. "The Doctor would probably back you, but Jack..."

He grumbled then as she put her head back down. He pulled the blanket up higher to half cover his head. "Still working on that bit..."


	3. Chapter 3

**Title:** Domestic Holiday  
><strong>Series:<strong> The James Harborne Tales  
><strong>Fandoms:<strong> Doctor Who/Torchwood  
><strong>Fic!Verse:<strong> Resurrection!Verse  
><strong>Pairings:<strong> 10/Jack  
><strong>Author:<strong> Z-sama (dA user _the-lady-harkness_)  
><strong>Beta:<strong> TWTL

_**DISCLAIMER: We don't own Torchwood. We don't own Doctor Who. We wish we could own them both, but we can't. Hell, we'd settle for the K9 spin-off pilot that failed many years ago... but sadly, we can't have that either. All of that is owned by the BBC.**_

* * *

><p>Christmas Eve morning found the teens walking to the sounds of a smoke alarm. Jesse fell with a feline screech of surprise from her comfortable position perched up on the bookcase. She landed on the floor with a thump, too surprised to land on her feet. She crashed onto some books and a moldy old peanut butter and banana sandwich.<p>

James was on his feet and out the bedroom door shortly after, tugging on a shirt.

Jesse clambered up and followed. Shouting came from the kitchen. "What the hell?"

"Faulty Earth workmanship!"

"I don't... It's not even plugged in!"

When Jesse got there James had flung open the back door and was trying to fan the smoke out of the kitchen. "Why the hell did you think that it was a good idea to wire the fridge to the washing machine?"

Jesse raised her hand, a finger up as if she was going to offer a suggestion. But before she could say anything...

"Jack asked if I could have a look at some things. The excess heat cast from the refrigerator can heat the water in the washing machine, saving on electricity."

James growled. The Doctor was right, of course. He'd been trying to convince Jack to let him do that for ages now. "Okay. Logical-"

"Thank you."

Jesse tried again. "Hey, uhm-"

"Logical, but done **WRONG**! And who looks at a toaster and thinks it needs a rice steamer?"

"I do! It saves time when you need to make toast and rice at the same time!"

"Who the bloody hell needs toast AND rice?" James shouted back at him as he continued fanning the smoke out of the kitchen. The Doctor kept putting out the electrical fires he'd created.

Unable to hold her tongue, nor her patience, much longer Jesse joined in the shouting. "Why is the telly running around the back yard chasing a rabbit?"

At this the two bickering males stopped and turned to her. Without looking, the Doctor used the fire extinguisher to squash the last fire in the washing machine.

Jesse pointed out the kitchen door.

As one, both men looked and spoke. For once in total agreement. "I told him not to buy from shifty Slitheen... But no. It was on bloody sale."

Jesse blinked in surprise, or shock. Possibly both. "Whoa... Time Lords..." she said in awe. "Now in stereo..."

**o0o**

After cleaning as best they could, plugging the fridge back in (with only minimal flame involved) and chasing the television into the corner store across the street and down a little ways only to destroy it, the teens called a friend to give them a lift into town.

The Doctor, shoeless, was made to sit in the backseat of Raven's car. She had graciously put up with her club president's eccentric relative until he started leaning between the front seats to fiddle with her radio stations. She'd smacked his hands, scolded him in the rearview mirror, and threatened to not stop by Starbucks on the way into town.

The Doctor started to object until Jesse nipped him in the shoulder in warning. "I need coffee," she hissed. "And so does James."

When they **did** reach their destination, Harborne Antiques, James gave his friend some gas money... And the cost of the Doctor's venti Earl Gray. They wished one another a Happy Christmas and the girl drove on. She had errands of her own to run on this day.

The three ragamuffins trudged into the shop. "Hullo!" the Doctor called out when he saw no one was in sight, and then bounded, barefoot, down the central aisle.

Jack emerged from a door behind the counter, a dingy, dirty work apron tied around his waist and a paint brush soaked in varnish in his hand. "What did you do?" he asked in a stern voice.

Unsure of whom he meant, both James and the Doctor started. "Weeeellll..." they said as one, rubbing the backs of their necks in perfect time with one another. Both with their right hands.

Jesse's earlier observations of them were now repeated by Jack. "...Whoa... Stereo..."

The teen and Time Lord gave one another an annoyed look.

"I know, right!" Jesse giggled from behind them.

James pointed an accusing finger at the Doctor. "He set the kitchen on fire!"

"The appliances did that!"

"After you rewired them without the proper tools!"

"Not my fault someone nicked my screwdriver! I did the best I could with a Swiss army knife and a roll of duct tape!"

Jack sighed, dropped the paintbrush in a vinyl lined pocket of his work apron and leaned against the counter. He had his chin in his hand as he watched them flail about and shout at one another. Jesse came up beside him and pulled out the stool he kept under the counter. She hopped right up and turned to watch as well.

"How long have they been at it?" Jack asked.

"All morning." She leaned a bit to rub her cheek on his shoulder, another of her bizarre, but harmless cat-like behaviors left over from millions of years of evolution. "I need bacon."

"I have some beef jerky in back."

"But I need pig," she whined.

"Suit yourself," he said, reaching beneath his apron into his pants pocket for his keys. His son and the Doctor were still yelling at one another. He dropped the keys in her lap. "Go put the trailer on the truck around back. Then go buy yourself a bacon biscuit next door," he said.

She snatched up the keys and jumped off the stool, dashing with her feline quickness to the back workroom and out the back door. Jack left the counter after a while, going around locking up doors, pulling down the front shutters at the windows. He hadn't expected customers. It was Christmas Eve, after all. But he figured a slow day would let him catch up on some of his restoration work.

Once Jack was sure the place was locked up, save the back door of course, he took off his work apron and slipped into the back. He hung the apron up, grabbed a box off a shelf, and returned to the front counter. He opened the box and took out a trainer.

He hadn't lied to the Doctor. On the contrary, he had been unusually truthful. There were no shoes at the **house** that would fit him. He never said anything about his store.

One shoe each was thrown at the bickering pair who had now stooped to childish name calling, having surpassed the point of logic based scientific argument ages ago.

"Oi! Hey!" they cried in unison, rubbing the sides of their heads where they had been hit.

"Put those on. We're going to the warehouse. On the way you two are making a list of **everything** you've broken in my kitchen."

"And the washing machine," James added smugly.

"Doctor," Jack said when the man was about to answer back. "You'll get the screwdriver back when you two start behaving."

"I'm not a child," the Doctor muttered as he sat in the floor to put the shoes on. Black Converse, just like the ones he wore for special occasions. Only these were new. "I'm 932 you know."

Jack laughed at the absurdity. "No you're not! You've been lying about your age for centuries!"

"Still not a child," the Doctor insisted as he tied his shoes.

Jack gave him an _Are we really going to do this now _look.

James groaned. "Great," he said. "I not only have centuries long midlife crisis to look forward to, but I'm now at higher risk for alien dementia. Gee, thanks dads." Sarcasm dripped from every word, every syllable. "I'll be in the bloody truck."

The Doctor watched after him. "I'm getting the feeling he doesn't much want me around anymore."

Jack went over to pull the Doctor to his feet. "It's not that," he said, trying to find the right wording. One that wouldn't give too much away, as the most recent visit was far ahead in the Doctor's perspective of time. "He's dealing with a lot right now... Most of his friends... transferred." He didn't want to tell him there was a war on. He didn't want to mention James was at risk of being sent off to fight just for being clever and young. Jack forced a smile. "You know how it is. Last year of school, then off to college."

The Doctor scratched his cheek. "So... setting fire to the kitchen didn't help," he said, changing the subject a little when he noticed the slight strain of Jack's eyes as he spoke.

"No. But I keep a steady supply of kitchen equipment stocked up. He usually targets microwaves, dish washers, and my oven. You didn't damage my oven, did you?"

The Doctor scratched his cheek again with a sheepish grin. "Welll... I may have added enhanced broiler settings."

Jack's forced smile was gone in a flash, replaced by an angry glare. "If it didn't directly affect my timeline, I would kill you where you stand. Nobody messes with my oven."

"But I haven't broken in my new shoes yet!"

Jack growled. "I'll be in the truck."

The Doctor chased after him when he left the shop, stopping long enough to lock the door behind him. "Come on Jack! It's Christmas! You can't be grinchy at Christmas!"

**o0o**

At the warehouse Jack took the list made by James and the Doctor and went through one corner piled high with boxes.

"Blimey," said the Doctor, looking at a stack of refrigerator boxes. "You weren't kidding."

"Everything except a coffee machine... James doesn't get along well with those." He looked around with his hands in his pockets. "Well, careful you don't drop anything on the antiques."

"What?"

"You two made this mess; you two are going to fix it."

"But dad!" James whined. "**He** did it!"

Jack smirked, pulling his hands out of pockets only to fold his arms across his chest. "Consider it an opportunity to spend some quality time together."

"But!-"

"If you'd given him back his screwdriver like I'd told you to, he wouldn't have set the kitchen on fire."

Both James and the Doctor groaned, sighed, and muttered under their breath.

"If you want dinner tomorrow, you'd better hurry it up."

For the next two hours Jack and Jesse sat back in some strangely comfy Edwardian chairs and watched them find and load the replacement appliances. They had cocoa and marshmallows, laughing as the Doctor would try to push a box one way, with James on the opposite side pushing back against him.

"This is better than the telly," Jesse said, taking the candy cane Jack offered her to use for stirring her cocoa.

Jack nodded in agreement. "How long before they figure out they can use the dolly?"

"Oh... They're too stubborn and hard headed for that," Jesse said, giving a toothy grin. "You think the Doc will put his back out again?"

Jack shrugged. "I hope not. Easter was unbearable. Though, to be fair, he did fall from an airplane and land in Mrs. Hopper's rose bushes."

They sat and sipped their cocoa, watching their boys shout at one another while trying to move a box full of stove.

**o0o**

Eventually the stubborn boys began to work together and devised a series of ramps and pulleys. But they were still overcomplicating things by not simply using the dolly.

Once back at the house Jesse and Jack decided to take as much of the foods they could from the kitchen for fear that James and the Doctor would start again and not get the kitchen back together.

In the end everything was put in its proper place, Jesse had fun chopping vegetables (especially the carrots), and the Doctor got his screwdriver back as promised.

The remainder of the afternoon was spent in peace... because Jesse decided it would be best to take James and fetch the family pet the moment another argument broke out.

Now Jack, sleeves rolled up and frilly pale purple apron on, was in his newly refurbished kitchen. Cooking. The Doctor was at the table behind him, fiddling with his sonic.

"**Don't **do that in here," Jack snapped. "Don't need nor want anything fixed, enhanced, rewired, reconfigured, added to, simplified, or in general messed around with. Damn scientists always trying to take things apart and put them back together wrong. I just want to go two months without replacing _anything_."

The Doctor blinked at him, taken aback by the usually collected Captain as he stood at the counter with his plastic covered hands flat on the surface. He was leaning forward, slightly, over the turkey in the pan in front of him.

"Okay..." the Doctor said, opening his jacket and speaking very carefully."Putting away the screwdriver." His words were said in a tone that one may take to calm a wild beast on the verge of attack. He was unsure where this was going, but was certain he didn't want to go along for the ride.

Jack shook his head, took a deep breath, and pulled himself back together. He'd been stressed lately. He could face down the end of the world. Laugh in the shadow of eternity. He'd ridden the time vortex clinging to the outside of a TARDIS, unprotected. And that was just a Tuesday to him. But this... domestic life he'd backed himself into... He didn't think he could take much more of it.

He took another breath and stuck a hand in the bowl of compound butter beside the pan. "Sorry," he said finally. "I didn't..."

"After destroying your kitchen... Yeah. I probably shouldn't even be in here so..."

The chair scraped against the hardwood floor.

"Stay," Jack said, not looking up.

The Doctor was silent a moment. So much packed into one little word. A question. A plea. A demand. They weren't talking about the kitchen anymore... "I'm rubbish at this kind of thing, you know. Always have been."

"I know."

The Doctor could hear it in his voice. Disappointment. He rubbed the back of his neck, trying to sort out what to do. What to say. "Jack I..."

"I'll tell them you had an emergency. Some new menace in London. Or pod people in Brazil. They'll understand," he said calmly. "We're used to it."

The Doctor recognized that calmness in his voice. That dangerous unreadable wall was rebuilding. Brick by brick and stone by stone. He knew what he should do... but it wasn't what he _wanted _to do. He slipped off his pinstriped jacket and draped it on the back of his chair. Rolling up his sleeves he looked for something to do.

Stepping up beside Jack, he wore a stupid grin on his face. "Got another pair of those?"

Jack raised a brow as he nodded to the cabinet in front of him. The Doctor gave a subtle nod as he found the plastic toss-away gloves and put them on.

"If Rose could see me now..." he said, holding up his hands."I've got dinner lady hands!"

Jack laughed. "There's a big muffin pan in the bottom cabinet. Get that and spray it really well."

"Can't I help with the bird?"

"You'll kill us all."

"Nah... Food poisoning maybe. Possibly... Probably. Did I tell you how rubbish I am at this?"

Jack's expression was warm, like it had been when the Doctor had been stuck in bed. The Time Lord couldn't remember the last time Jack had been like that... Happy. And for now, at least, at peace. And he was glad. For once... He'd decided not to run away and nothing horrible happened.

The TARDIS could wait a little longer for him, he decided, as Jack dictated what to do with the muffin pan and the bowl of dressing.

"Oh!" the Doctor exclaimed cheerfully. "So the whole top is crunchy bits! I hate when everyone else gets those and I'm stuck with the middle piece."

"Don't forget to open the corn for me," Jack said as he slid the bird in the oven. "Have to start that while the girl's gone or else she'll never leave the kitchen."

"Why?"

"Bacon."

"In the corn?"

Jack nodded. "If I don't make it every Christmas now, that girl gets... well, we're glad she didn't do any serious damage to the neighbor's dachshund. Poor thing still won't go outside if Jesse's around."


	4. Chapter 4

**Title:** Domestic Holiday  
><strong>Series:<strong> The James Harborne Tales  
><strong>Fandoms:<strong> Doctor Who/Torchwood  
><strong>Fic!Verse:<strong> Resurrection!Verse  
><strong>Pairings:<strong> 10/Jack  
><strong>Author:<strong> Z-sama (dA user _the-lady-harkness_)  
><strong>Beta:<strong> TWTL

_**DISCLAIMER: We don't own Torchwood. We don't own Doctor Who. We wish we could own them both, but we can't. Hell, we'd settle for the K9 spin-off pilot that failed many years ago... but sadly, we can't have that either. All of that is owned by the BBC.**_

* * *

><p>James sat in the floor of his lab with Rose. The Barcelona Retriever wagged her tail happily as she licked his face in greeting.<p>

"Well... it's feeling better." Jesse kept her distance. She and the dog didn't get along well... but they tolerated one another since neither was willing to give up their best friend.

"Yeah. It looks like the hibernation chamber did the trick." He shoved her snout out of his face and sat up straighter. "Rose, sit."

She obeyed the command, her tail thumping the floor.

"Jess, gimme the sonic."

She turned to look at the workbench covered in tools and gadgets. She found it... and something more. "James?..."

"Just toss it over. I need to check Rose's vitals."

"Why does this datapad have the same screen as the scanner on the Doctor's TARDIS?"

"Because I hacked it," he said. "How else was I going to get dad's present here on time?"

She stared at him. "James, what did you do?"

Rose barked at her. Jesse hissed back.

"Girls, girls. Calm down. I didn't make him crash if that's what you mean. The pink smoke has nothing to do with me." He got up and went to her, snatching his homemade sonic screwdriver from her hand. He pointed the device at Rose and pressed the button. The familiar high pitched whine filled the air. Then he checked the results and continued. "Picked up a distress call on the hyperscope. Checked it out. And then guided the TARDIS for a... moderately safe landing."

"The library. You **knew** we'd find him there!"

"No. Not as such. I didn't think the temporal coordinates were correct. But I had to think fast. I figured he'd pop up around Christmas. I just didn't know _which_ Christmas." He held up his hand to stay her protest. "And before you get started, we really were on our way to get that sonic squareness gun and pick up his greatcoat from the cleaners. I had no idea he'd actually land at **this** Christmas."

She was silent a minute. Rose eyed her suspiciously. "I... went out in the cold.. for NOTHING!"

He fished around in his pocket frantically searching for anything. A cracker, a crumb, a jelly bean. Any food item he could think of. Finally, he found a bag of the Doctor's sweets he'd kept back. "Jelly baby?" he asked, offering it to her. She snatched it from him.

"Changes," she said between bites. "Nothing."

Satisfied that Jesse wasn't going to kill him for now, he turned to his dog and resumed her examination. "Next time you eat yellow cake uranium, warn me first okay old girl." He scratched under her chin with a smile. "At least you won't claw my face off, will you?'

"I'm telling Jack you crashed the TARDIS."

"I didn't..." It was no use. She wasn't going to stop thinking he'd crashed it on purpose. "...Wait till after the Doc leaves," he said. "I... don't want to ruin Christmas. Again."

She popped another sweet in her mouth and devoured it. "Fine, but you owe me."

"Anything. Just don't spoil things. We said it'll be the best Christmas ever. And I mean it. I've ruined it every single year. I won't let this one go to pot."

She grinned evilly. "Greggory," she said.

His eyes widened. "Jess, **no**."

"You said **anything**. Either I beat up the creep who cheated on you or I tell Jack and the Doctor it's your fault the TARDIS-"

"You won't kill him?" He sounded unsure, slightly desperate.

The Sardosi girl nodded with a triumphant grin. "I swear on Sanctuary and the holy _Magnus Lisistrato _I won't kill the cheating, lying bastard who broke my best friend's heart. Also, I'll need more of these." She held up the now empty bag of sweets.

"That was fast."

"The bag was only half full."

James sighed. "Fine. Make sure you bust up his face. It's the only part of him people like to look at."

**o0o**

"So you cook everything-"

"Almost everything," Jack corrected.

"Right. The day before. It's better when it's fresh. Tastes better, don't have to heat it back up." The Doctor was at the table, balancing an empty mug on his forehead . "Just saying it's a more enjoyable meal that way."

"Busy tomorrow. Won't have the time." Jack leaned back on the counter next to the oven, still in that apron.

"Tomorrow? Busy? Nah."

"I didn't mean you. For a start there's breakfast, then gifts. Then the annual reassurances to the neighbors that James will not be causing another blackout, followed by fielding angry phone calls when he does. And then there are Jesse's usual fights with the neighborhood domestic animals. Still don't know what that's about. All of that before noon."

"Blimey," the Doctor said in astonishment as Jack went over to grab his cup before it fell and broke. He returned to the counter and refilled it.

"Then it's usually pretty quiet until dinner. Last year a Graske stole the turkey. Still don't know why. It just teleported in on the table, took the bird, and left again. Came back later to return the pan." He thought for a moment, then added, "Year before that it took the potatoes I think." He set the Doctor's cup back on the kitchen table. "I always get my dishes back, but it's just the strangest thing."

"Maybe it doesn't like doing the washing up after."

"No. They're always clean. And dry. And smell suspiciously of bananas."

The Doctor shrugged. "Considerate food thief then. So long as you get your crockery back, no harm done." The Doctor leaned back in his chair, putting it on the two back legs and picked up his tea. "You know," he said after a sip. "If it happens again I could probably trace it for you. Find out why it comes back to keep stealing your dinner."

Jack chuckled some and went back to check on his turkey. "It's not that important. Annoying, but what can you do? Worse things have happened."

The Doctor pondered this for a moment. "Yes... but what if this time it takes the bacon?"

**o0o**

When the teens returned they found Jack and the Doctor playing a complicated card game. Jesse plopped down on the floor in front of the fireplace to warm herself up. She purred contentedly.

"No no no! See **this** is why you always lose your pants!" the Doctor exclaimed, picking up some of the cards. "You never bet when the Karlavagn Priest is in play! It's a trap!"

Jesse snickered, repeating in a comical voice "It's a trap!"

James peered over Jack's shoulder. "That's a cowboy," he said, looking at the card the Doctor was holding up. "Naked cowboy."

The Doctor puffed out his cheeks in annoyance. "It's the only deck Jack had."

"What about the one in the storage room?" James asked, coming around to sit beside them. "You could have easily grabbed one of mine. I've got dozens."

Jack sniggered as the Doctor narrowed his eyes behind his glasses. "Go away," the Doctor said childishly. "The adults are playing."

"What game?" James asked, looking over the cards laying face up between them. He was more interested by the numerical patterns and sequences than he was the naked figures on the face of each card. "Hmm... Some kind of strategy based game based on repeating sums in blocks of four."

"Sudoku," Jesse said from her comfortable place in front of the fireplace. "A spacey-wacey Sudoku."

"...Well, when you put it that way," the Doctor started.

James burst out laughing, rearranging some of the cards. "Oh! Now I get it! Each number is assigned a letter value based on the Venusian alphabet! You form words which are then used to challenge the opponent's ability to match with words of equal or greater value while still making sense!" He looked at Jack, trying to contain his laughter in order to speak. "No wonder you're losing! You should never bet on the word _fu_-"

"And that's why he keeps losing his pants every time he gambles!" the Doctor exclaimed, equally enthusiastic. "I've tried to explain it sooooo many times... He's worse than that old dwarf we met in Eriador."

James nodded. "Poor fool just couldn't grasp the fine art of Go Fish."

Jack mumbled something under his breath as he grabbed up the cards. Something about pie. Before he could go, James grabbed his shirt hem and asked, "Do we get to open a present tonight?"

"After today's performances?..."

"Come on dad," the teen whined. "Please!"

"Yeah, Jack! We always get to!" Jesse chimed in.

He rubbed his chin with a smirk. Make fun of his gambling, will they... "I don't know," he said as if considering it very carefully. Then, he shrugged. "As your father."

He turned to go back to the kitchen, leaving a wide eyed Doctor besieged by teenagers. The poor Time Lord agreed to the opening of one present each, and the looting of stockings, which would promptly be followed by harrowing tales of Christmases past before bed.

Jack, now in the kitchen, set to work on making a banana cream pie, laughing evilly.

**o0o**

It had been a long day. But unlike other Christmas Eves, he was sad to see it pass. It was a long day... but a good one.

Jack sat on the side of his bed, a towel draped across his shoulders as he looked out the window. White, pristine. The worst snow storm the area had seen since before he'd come here to hide away. But they were lucky. This end of town, these outskirts, were still passable. Mostly. He dreaded to imagine how long it would take before he could get into town again.

The door creaked as it opened. Jack looked over to see the Doctor closing it as quietly as he could.

"Are they..."

"Asleep. Yeah."

"Good," he said, pulling the towel up over his head to dry his hair a bit more. He could still smell the banana from the pie in his hair. If the blasted mixer hadn't exploded everywhere...

He was pulled from his thoughts as he heard footsteps drawing closer. Heels dragging the floor before the mattress shifted beneath him. A thud. Then another.

The domesticated immortal half turned on the bed, pulling the towel off his head to see the Doctor hanging his tie on the bedpost with his pinstriped jacket.

"What are you doing?"

Long fingers easily toggled buttons from their holes. "Going to bed, what's it look like?" Brown eyes blinked at him. "What?"

"In here?"

His words hung heavy in the air.

Then, "I could find somewhere else," the Doctor said, hands retracing their steps, but pausing just before buttoning back up as he locked eyes with a confused Jack.

The Captain thought about it. In the old days, he wouldn't have even done that much. Would have just jumped him long before now. His pulse quickened as he reached over and put a hand on his arm. The Doctor didn't pull away from him, not like he'd expected.

He didn't break his steady gaze. "When?" Jack asked, knowing the context need not be spoken. It was a common question between them. Often with a different answer each time.

"Doesn't matter," the Doctor replied, fingers still hovering in place, unsure.

Their points of perspective so rarely collided... So rarely even came a fraction closer. But Jack had to know. He needed to know the answer. "Doctor," he said, his hand sliding from the Time Lord's wrist to his elbow. "When did you last see me?"

The Doctor rebuttoned and started for the next. "That's hardly a question to ask me in a moment like this." He looked away now, pulling his arm from Jack's grasp. "Obviously, I misread the situ-"

He didn't get the next word out all the way. He'd hardly had time to catch his breath before the other man had grabbed him again. This time pulling him across the bed.

They were clumsy. Each man a bit out of practice as they knocked one another off balance before finally settling on a comfortable position.

Jack pressed his lips against the Doctor's shoulder before turning them on to the time lord's sensitive neck.

He gasped, dragging fingers across the tops of the Captain's shoulder blades. He threw his head back against the pillows and moaned appreciatively as Jack's tongue dipped into his collar bone.

"Tease," he hissed. Jack responded by rocking his hips, pressing down against him before pulling the younger bodied man into a roll. The Doctor was now looking down at him. That insufferable, impossible and completely arrogant smirk on his face.

Doubt crept into the Doctor's thoughts as he narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "You drugged my tea, didn't you?"

"Nope."

"Telepathic mind control?"

He shook his head. "Absolutely not."

The Doctor still didn't wholly believe him. "You've somehow planned this. Somehow managed to manipulate time."

"Honestly," Jack said jokingly. "I really wish I could. But for once, I'm completely innocent." Then the playful tone was gone. Only concern shown in those blue eyes as he reached up to cup the Doctor's cheek. "Having second thoughts?" he asked in complete seriousness. "You can always walk away."

The Doctor searched his face for any sign of deceit. Any trace, any hint. He had almost hoped he'd been right. Just because the immortal had mellowed some with age, the Doctor couldn't help but be suspicious. Guarded. Even a touch paranoid.

It wouldn't be so hard to take a peek inside his head. Just a small peek to confirm truth or lie...

He closed his eyes and sighed, putting a hand over Jack's. He'd have to be blind and deaf not to know this was what Jack had wanted since the moment they met. And it didn't change after his face did. And now here they were... And Jack was leaving it with **him**.

Until now, no one bothered with what he thought. His companions would just fall head over heels for him, and he couldn't help that. Sometimes it worked out. Sometimes not... But not a single one had ever considered how he felt about that. All they had to do was just _ask_ him.

A smile spread across his face. That overly expressive, often betraying him face. "I hope you're not a screamer," the Doctor said, opening his eyes and looking back down at him again.

"Soundproofed the room two years back."

Distracted, yes, as he so often and easily was even in times like these the Doctor opened his mouth to ask.

"Don't," Jack said. "Just... don't."

"Fine," the Time Lord replied, pulling Jack's hand from his face as he leaned in.

* * *

><p><strong>AUTHOR NOTES<strong>  
><em>Not really THAT important, but just so you know...<em>

**1.** "Greggory" is an ex-boyfriend of James. First boyfriend, actually. It didn't end well. There was scandal. And Jesse's still pissed off about it. Greggory is mentioned and appears briefly in the Harborne Tales story "White Lies and Telescopes".  
><strong>2.<strong> _Magnus Lisistrato_ is either Greek or Latin, or both, for "Great Liberator". To the Sardosi, the Magnus Lisistrato is a revered figure in their history, as it was he who freed them and brought them to _Sanctuary_ (Earth).  
><strong>3.<strong> Jack was forced to soundproof his bedroom after James had woken him every single morning with yet another botched experiment. And he continued to wake everyone within a five mile radius up at 2:59AM. Every single night. For six months straight. There was a toaster and Jack's oven involved. It got messy.


	5. Chapter 5

**Title:** Domestic Holiday  
><strong>Series:<strong> The James Harborne Tales  
><strong>Fandoms:<strong> Doctor Who/Torchwood  
><strong>Fic!Verse:<strong> Resurrection!Verse  
><strong>Pairings:<strong> 10/Jack  
><strong>Author:<strong> Z-sama (dA user _the-lady-harkness_)  
><strong>Beta:<strong> TWTL

_**DISCLAIMER: We don't own Torchwood. We don't own Doctor Who. We wish we could own them both, but we can't. Hell, we'd settle for the K9 spin-off pilot that failed many years ago... but sadly, we can't have that either. All of that is owned by the BBC.**_

* * *

><p>Jesse woke sometime around two, realizing she'd fallen asleep in the front room on the couch. But it was hunger that had woken her. She had raided the kitchen, unable to resist sampling the turkey. Then, remembering the year before and how it was stolen, she snapped off a leg and carried it into the sitting room with a glass of iced tea.<p>

It was while sitting in there, watching the blinking blue lights of the Christmas tree and snacking that her keen feline eyes caught movement in the hall.

Seconds later a very surprised looking half-naked Doctor stood frozen midway across the room. He was periodically lit from behind with a blue glow from the tree.

Jesse continued to eat, unperturbed. After a long pause the Doctor started moving again. He disappeared into the kitchen.

The girl smiled knowingly, sipping her tea. When the time lord had passed by her she could tell...

Being half asleep meant she wasn't concentrating on trying _not_ to read the vibrations of those around her... but it also meant she had no verbal filter as well.

She was still eating when the Doctor came back, trying to skate past her quickly with arms full of junk food. But he wasn't fast enough.

"You stink like sex," she said just loud enough for him to hear between bits of turkey meat. "And bacon."

The Doctor turned around, eyes narrowed. "Is that... turkey?" he asked, clearly uncomfortable with her choice of conversational subject.

"Do you _always_ eat that much after-?"

"You're supposed to be sleeping. Santa is watching, you know."

She sipped her tea and stood, waving the now bare turkey leg at him. "None of that better be my shrimp and garlic crisps."

The Doctor picked through the armload of junk food, threw four packets of crisps in her general direction and ran back to Jack's room with his loot.

Jesse disposed of the turkey bone, finished her tea, and returned to the sitting room to settle with her four bags of crisps in front of the smoldering embers of the evening's fire. Moments later, Jack appeared, equally half-naked. "Moron forgot the drinks... We have any Red Bull left?"

Jesse sighed. "Pantry, bottom shelf. Behind the case of banana pudding mix," she replied sleepily, opening a bag of her crisps. "Don't stay up all night." She yawned as he dashed to the kitchen. "Want my pancakes..."

When Jack passed by again she was purring contentedly in her sleep, hand shoved into an open packet of crisps.

**o0o**

The Doctor woke to a sore back, a bed full of empty crisp packets, and a spinning head. Though his Gallifreyan physiology allowed him to function on very little sleep, even he had to admit he was exhausted.

Yawning and scratching the back of his head blearily the Doctor tried to think, and found it a little difficult. Then he saw the pile of rumpled clothes nearby and smiled smugly. "Yeah... Still got it," he said to no one. Throwing the blankets back, he quickly regretted the action. The room was freezing and he didn't have a stitch on.

Hurriedly he climbed out of the warm bed and snatched up his trousers. After pulling them on in an attempt to reclaim warmth he found the zipper ripped and the button missing. "Damnit Jack..." he muttered, then stripped them back off and inspected his shirt. Wrinkled, a bit smelly from the kitchen work yesterday, but wearable. He slipped it on his arms and gave the room a cursory glance. A quick look in the closet reminded him that Jack's waist and hips were bigger and his pants would fall right off.

He could always steal a belt, but found that to be quite hard to do when he couldn't FIND a belt.

The Doctor looked back to the dresser. There, folded neatly on top was a change of clothes. How he had missed it the first time... he blamed sleep deprivation (though he knew full well that was equally his own fault as it was Jack's). He went to the dresser and pulled down the first item. A clean shirt. Pressed even. Dark blue with off white buttons down the front. He replaced his own shirt with this clean one, and knew who it belonged to instantly. The shoulders were broader, the sleeves a little bigger.

"I knew I was scrawny but... blimey. I need to work out or something," he said, again, to no one as he buttoned the shirt. It was big, yes, but it was decent. And clean. And it covered evidence of his... indiscretions. When he held up the pants however...

"You've got to be kidding me," he said as brown eyes looked on the loud banana print pattern of the sleep pants. Complete with little toggles on the end of the draw string at the waist. Little... plastic... bananas.

"James..." he muttered, pulling them on with a groan.

**o0o**

Jack grinned when he heard bare feet treading the floorboards on their way to the kitchen.

"Hey, Doc!" Jesse exclaimed in cheerful greeting between strips of bacon.

"Well this is... _Domestic_," the Doctor said, looking at the smiling teens seated at the table. James tried to steal a bacon strip. Jesse hissed at him. The boy scowled.

"Sit down," Jack said, his back to them. The Doctor saw the pale purple bow of his apron at the small of his back... Right above a familiar swath of blue and purple swirls. The Doctor's tie. Jack was, possibly, oblivious to the Doctor's curious eye and said, "Pancakes ready in a minute."

The Doctor adjusted the drawstring of his borrowed pants then pulled out a chair to do just that.

Jesse slapped her dear friend's hand when he made a second attempt for bacon. The Doctor reached for the pitcher of orange juice, only to have his hand slapped as well.

"Oi!"

"You can't have it," Jesse said matter-of-factly. Jack chuckled from the stove as he slid the last pancake from the skillet onto the massive stack he'd been building.

"I can have what I like, and I like-"

"You may like it, but that doesn't mean it likes you. No juice for you!"

James was at last able to snatch up some bacon while the girl was distracted. He grinned proudly s he chewed on the fried pork strip.

The Doctor reached for the orange juice again but stopped when he saw the stack of pancakes. Eyes wide he watched as Jack set it on the table.

The Captain took the top eight and gave them to Jesse. "Bacon chocolate chip," he said. She clapped her hands, then squealed in delight and grabbed a bottle of syrup. Ten pancakes each went to James and the Doctor. "Banana nut for the banana loving nuts." He stopped long enough to untie and remove his apron, leaving it draped over the back of his chair. Then he sat down and pulled the remainder of the stack to himself. "Mocha macadamia," he said happily, reaching for the second bottle of syrup. But James took it first to ensure the Doctor had to wait.

"Here, take mine," Jesse said, passing a half empty bottle across to him.

James was about to take a sugar loaded bite when Jack stopped him. "Get him some tea," he said as Jesse smacked the Time Lord's hand again. "I don't feel like dealing with him when he's-"

"**Fine**," James snapped, glaring as if daring someone to touch his breakfast before rising from the table to fetch the Doctor's tea.

"Why won't you let me have any juice!" the Doctor protested from behind his stack of big, fluffy pancakes. "Any why do I have so many? Do I have to eat it _all_?"

Jesse snickered, and Jack kicked her under the table. Causing the alien girl to yelp in surprise.

"Thought after all the excitement yesterday you'd worked up a big appetite."

The Doctor felt his face turn just a slight shade red as Jesse struggled to contain her amusement.

Jack sad there with a straight face, and the Doctor didn't know how he could do it. Then, he cracked the slightest smile, looking at the Doctor from the corner of his eye. "I know I did."

A large mug was set down hard next to the Doctor's plate, distracting him from Jack. "And," James started. "You're allergic to oranges. Said so yourself."

"Really? When?"

"Great," the boy muttered under his breath. "We haven't done Asgard yet. Just... Truest me. You and oranges don't mix... But this means that even though I just told you, and I remind you when I'm 11, you're still going to eat the bloody things."

The Doctor clamped his hands over his ears. "No no no no! Don't tell me anything more! Too much foreknowledge!"

Jesse laughed at him as James rounded the table to sit. Instantly he tore into his stack of pancakes greedily. Jesse and Jack followed suit.

So, not one to be left out the Doctor joined in. Occasionally Jesse and Jack would attempt to steal some. He didn't mind. It was a lot, after all. But soon he found himself fork fencing with James over stray pieces of banana.

In the end, the Doctor was triumphant. The loser, James, was informed he was to pass out the gifts.

Breakfast was followed by tea and cocoa as the strange little family moved to the sitting room. The Doctor noticed the couch from the front room had been moved into the space sometime between his food run during the night and when he woke this morning.

Jesse smiled and winked at him when he sat down beside Jack.

The Captains arm started to come up to wrap around the Doctor's shoulders but he was stopped by a bark from James.

"Oi!" he snapped, much in the same manner as the Doctor often did. "All hands where I can see 'em! Don't care what goes on when I'm not around, but no hanky panky on the couch! Or in here! Or where I can see you!" He was waving a wrapped box at them. "Still weird."

The Doctor, never one for thinking before he opened his big mouth replied, "Well how do you think you got here, eh?"

"_**STILL WEIRD!**_" he shouted in disgust... Not like he had a problem with it. Being a teenager, and a boy, it was on his mind _all the time_. But really, who wanted to be stuck with the mental image of their parents doing... THAT. Just... Just no.

His shout had been accompanied by the throwing of the gift in his hand. It wasn't heavy, but the Doctor still didn't think it was nice to get boxed in the face. When it landed in his lap he looked at the tag. It was for him, but it didn't say from whom. He gave it a little shake before setting it aside.

As gifts were passed around Jesse was more fascinated with the shiny ribbons and ornaments than the actual presents. She pounced them periodically and was content with all the shiny. For a nearly grown Sardosi, she loved this human holiday. It gave her an excuse to act like a youngling again.

When James had finished passing out gifts, he forcibly plopped himself between his parents with his own stack of presents in his lap. Determined to keep them from...

Well...

He didn't like to think about it.

Jesse lay on her back among the wrapping paper as gifts were opened, and she was shredding it gleefully as the three of them tossed it down to her.

Opening the gift that had hit him in the face, the Doctor frowned. He held up a dark blue bowtie. "Okay. Who gave me this rubbish?"

Jack smiled deviously, knowing the Doctor may not have much use for bowties now but...

The Doctor continued. "Bowties are **not** cool. They will **never** be cool. Why in the name of Rassilon would you buy me a-"

"You know, there are more than a million uses for bowties," Jack said teasingly.

As one Jesse and James snapped "Jack, stop it!"

The Doctor laughed so hard he dropped the tie and nearly spilled his tea in his lap. Jack muttered under his breath. "I was only making an observation..."

**o0o**

After presents were opened and laughs shared the four of them sat lazily by the fire. The lights were still twinkling from the tree, and Jesse had curled up in her favorite spot by the fireplace. Purring happily with one arm wrapped around her new cookbook **1001 Recipes for Bacon**. It wasn't published yet. Wouldn't be until 2021. Jack told the Doctor, discretely, that the book and their son's new datapad were _retroactive_. Meaning the Doctor, not having gotten gifts because of his emergency landing, had gotten them later and left them with Jack.

The Doctor reminded himself to do this after his little holiday was over.

Between them, James too had fallen victim to the sugar and carbo crash. Which, the Doctor noted as he carefully stood, was the reason Jack had made so many of those blasted pancakes. He looked around at the mess. "Blimey, who'd going to clean this up then?"

"I cooked. I'm not lifting another finger till dinner."

"Not even a Christmas pudding?" the Doctor asked, hopeful. He did like a good plum or figgy pudding. Made the whole of past Christmas disasters bearable if he had that to look forward to at the end.

Jack slowly extricated himself from James, who'd been using him as a pillow. "Nope."

The boy groaned as he was gently laid on a couch cushion, and then promptly hugged it in his sleep.

"Coffee?" Jack asked. "Tea?"

The Doctor's hopes for a good pudding were burst. But they were cleared away quickly at the suggestion of more tea. "_Always_ ready for tea," he replied.

They picked their way through the sitting room and returned to the kitchen. Jack went straight to the kettle and set to work. The Doctor leaned back against the counter beside him, arms folded across his chest as he waited patiently.

"I'm glad you're here," Jack said quietly. "Despite the car trouble."

"Well," the Doctor started, shifting his weight to his other food. "It was on my calendar. But you know me. Never pop up when I mean to."

"The old girl was probably trying to make sure you made it on time for once in your life." When the kettle whistled, Jack took it off the stove and set it on an oven pad before pulling two fresh cups from the cabinet.

The Doctor watched him with interest. It was so... Normal. So boring. So... _domestic_. He couldn't begin to comprehend how Jack did it. How he even could, after everything that had come before.

"For a man with a time machine," Jack said. "You've got serious punctuality problems."

They shared a tense laugh.

"Did you know," the Doctor started, trying to fill the awkwardness. "Right now I'm in London, sorting out yet another hush hush alien invasion."

Jack finished making the Doctor's cup. "Really?" he asked, holding it out. Their fingers touched, lingering just a moment too long.

Jack looked away quickly, not wanting the Doctor to see the doubt in his eyes. The worry. The fear that this... Whatever it is... That last night was all he had. That he'd never get another chance...

"Yeah, really," the Doctor said, attempting to fill another stretch of awkward silence. "Fourth incarnation."

Jack stirred his own tea. "The floppy hat, curls, and the-"

"Long scarf. Yeah. You've seen me then?"

"Just old files. Some pictures. UNIT security was lax back then." Jack moved to the table with his tea. The Doctor stayed put.

Both hands wrapped around the mug, warming them against the blizzard outside. He shifted his weight again and wiggled his toes on the kitchen floor. "Still is," the Doctor said. He drank as Jack just sat. Silent.

"It was killer robot puppies that time," said his house guest. "Romana kept shouting that K9 would be next. We even had her fooled into thinking he'd started it all. The look on her face when she found out. It was priceless."

"Doctor..." Jack started.

"Look. I'm going to keep babbling until one of three things happen. I run out of things to say, which we both know won't happen. You finally vive in and tell me what's the matter. Or one of us drops our pants to avoid the problem entirely." He sipped his tea, and then added, "In which case I strongly protest doing so in here until the dishes are done. Had a bad experience with syrup, fire ants, and a companion in a kilt once."

He set his nearly empty cup next to the cooling kettle. "We'll start simple, yeah. Why are you using my tie as a belt?"

"Can't find mine after you got the brilliant idea to try and tie your foot to the bookcase at 4AM."

"I blame the sugar. And you know I can't have **that** much caffeine at one time."

"...You're never drinking Red Bull again. It does... strange things to your mind. You thought if you tied it to your foot, the damned thing wouldn't float away."

"My foot or the bookcase?" He laughed, but stopped when he noticed Jack wasn't. "See, not so hard." He rubbed the back of his neck, then scratched it. "Now you ask me one."

Jack set his cup down, but did not take his hands away. "Why?"

"Because that's how conversations work."

"No," he said, blue eyes staring down into the dark liquid in his cup. "_**Why**_?"

"Why not?"

"That's not an answer."

The Time Lord sighed and bowed his head in thought. He wanted to kick himself for having stayed after all. But... If he had left... Perhaps he'd never get this opportunity again for a very **very** long time. Maybe even only once at all...

No. The Doctor nodded, deciding to try and explain it, even if only so he'd understand it himself. "I guess," he started, unsure. "I... don't know. I guess it's just... I've been through a lot since we met. We both have. Everyone else just comes and goes..." He raked a hand through his unkempt hair, becoming frustrated with himself for sounding so ridiculously sappy. "Look," he said. "Do I really need to spell it out? It took me three years to finally say it to Rose. And even then the bloody clone had to do it!"

Jack looked up when the Doctor came to the table. He stood on the opposite side and then leaned in, putting a hand on either side of a plate covered in sticky sweet syrup and bacon grease. He sounded annoyed, but Jack could tell it wasn't directed at him.

It was directed at the Doctor. And at their _situation_.

"I've been stuck bouncing from Old Jack, Young Jack, and Jack the size of a bloody planet. 27 years of it, mate. And the whole time it was out of order. And I could never say a damn word. Because when you weren't emotionally crippled and breaking my hearts you were HUGE, loud, and hormonal! And then there's the you that never told me anything because I didn't even realize you'd got under my skin until three weeks ago when you found out I knew about July 2009, I told you I'd tried to fix it over and over, and then you went swanning off without your pants."

Brown eyes were wild as blue searched them. Slowly the Doctor started to calm back down. And Jack started to smile, remembering his time on the TARDIS after he'd lost everything. After he'd lost Ianto and Steven and even himself.

"I want to hear you say it," he said.

"It doesn't need saying," the Doctor said, the first to look away.

Jack put down his cup and reached across to lay a hand over one of the Doctor's. "Yes," he said. He squeezed gently, and the Doctor turned his hand over. Their fingers laced together. "Just once. I need to hear you say it. I need to know the last seventeen years were worth it."

Realization dawned on the Doctor. The wheels started to turn as he processed what Jack had just said. Numbers were crunched, and facts called upon. Not even that one event that was, for him, yet to come but for Jack so long ago, those words were never spoken.

And Jack was left to wonder... Hoping all this time... Left with a living, breathing reminder of what could, perhaps, be the biggest mistake in the universe...

He lifted his other hand and leaned in further. He looked again at Jack's old blue eyes with certainty. Both hearts beat faster as he reached out and buried his hand in Jack's graying hair and pulled him closer. It was awkward, like this across the table, but they managed it well enough. Their lips locked firmly, eyes closed as Jack let go of the Doctor's hand to push him, just a little away. Unlike the Time Lord, he couldn't make his body stop breathing and expect to live.

When they broke apart, the Doctor pressed their foreheads together. Jack was breathing heavily, trying to regain the air that was stolen from his lungs.

When Jack opened his eyes, the Doctor's were already looking at him, waiting patiently. Glistening lips parted as Jack heard the man speak. He was surprised when the words that came out weren't English, and, for a change, weren't translated by the telepathic link to the TARDIS that they shared.

Rather, another language he hadn't heard since he'd left home. Words from so long ago... so far away...

It was the language of the Boekind. His native tongue.

And when he heard it, Jack sighed. "Thank you.," he said softly. Seventeen years worth of doubt melting away.


	6. Chapter 6

**Title:** Domestic Holiday  
><strong>Series:<strong> The James Harborne Tales  
><strong>Fandoms:<strong> Doctor Who/Torchwood  
><strong>Fic!Verse:<strong> Resurrection!Verse  
><strong>Pairings:<strong> 10/Jack  
><strong>Author:<strong> Z-sama (dA user _the-lady-harkness_)  
><strong>Beta:<strong> TWTL

_**DISCLAIMER: We don't own Torchwood. We don't own Doctor Who. We wish we could own them both, but we can't. Hell, we'd settle for the K9 spin-off pilot that failed many years ago... but sadly, we can't have that either. All of that is owned by the BBC.**_

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><p>Jesse doubted anyone else noticed the subtle change in the atmosphere of the house. She'd first noticed it when the Doctor had woken her and James so they could tidy up the sitting room.<p>

After being relegated to the kitchen for shredding paper rather than cleaning it up, the girl was nearly overwhelmed with the lingering feelings of relief, excitement, and the lack of constant uncertainty that filled the kitchen.

Standing side by side with Jack at the sink, it was easy for her to discover the source of these ecstatic vibrations. And she couldn't help but comment. "Someone's having a happy Christmas."

"I always have a happy Christmas," Jack replied, handing her a clean plate to dry.

She gave a catty grin. "Well... I'm happy for you," she said as she dried the dish and added it to her stack. Jack handed her another. "And so is James," she added.

"Funny way of showing it," Jack said sarcastically.

"You know how he is. Ever since he found out last month..." She trailed off.

Jack raised a brow. "Don't you mean since August?" Jack asked. "When his boyfriend broke things off because his secret girlfriend had a baby."

Jesse gaped at him. "How did you..."

"Small town," Jack said. "People talk." He laughed lightly. "It's cute how you two think I'm oblivious to your lies. I also know about the lab."

"So **you're** the one who leaves the cookies!"

"You didn't think they spontaneously appeared in the mini-fridge from an inexhaustible supply, did you?" When he looked at Jesse, her eyes were big as saucers. He put a suds covered finger to his lips. "Don't tell the boy. He'd be appalled that I actually pay attention."

As Jack and Jesse continued to discuss the various things he actually knew but the teens thought they had so cleverly hidden from him, James and the Doctor were in the sitting room. Still cleaning.

"Seriously... under here too?" the Doctor complained as he and James were flat on their stomachs, pulling shredded wrapping paper and ribbons out from where they had been shoved beneath a chair.

"Is this a sandwich?"

James crawled over and sniffed the old, offensive item the Doctor had pulled out. "Peanut butter, you think?" the boy asked.

The Doctor sat up and a got into a seated position, wishing he'd had his glasses so he could look quite clever while examining it.

James sniffed it again. "No bananas... So not one of mine."

"Do you sleepwalk eat?" the Doctor asked. It wasn't an odd question, really. He'd once caught the boy sleep inventing after one too many cups of coffee when they'd stopped by the planet Starbucks on Spring Break.

James shook his head. "No... Not since that time. Wait, we've done Naboo, right?"

"Oh yes," the Doctor replied. "And the Starbucks."

"...Those poor Uber Mormons..."

They lapsed into a moment of silence, remembering that fateful day they had visited the future corporate coffee planet. "At least it was IKEA Adjacent," James said cheerfully. "Well, not since then. Is that green or white mold?"

"Blue, actually."

"Cheese?"

"On a peanut butter?" the Doctor asked in disgust. Then he remembered some of Pregnant Jack's favorite and most bizarre food combinations. He shuddered. "Well... I've made worse."

James saw him shudder. "Pease, sardines, and beetles again?"

The Doctor stared at him in disbelief. "How-"

"...You _really_ don't want to finish that question."

For the next few hours James and the Doctor cleaned between turns of pondering the old and moldy sandwich with much scientific interest.

**o0o**

Dinner was a simple affair.

James and the Doctor, having found common ground in the mystery sandwich were now getting along quite well. Jack, now free of the very heavy burden of doubt and uncertainty was more animated than the three had seen him in a very long time. And Jesse, a table covered with much food and drink, surrounded by three men who were closer than family, was overwhelmed with the joy and merriment of the occasion.

That is... until about 15 minutes in... IT came.

That moment every Christmas evening when that vile, alien thief appeared, stole one of their dishes, and disappeared just as suddenly.

Now, as this was a regular occurrence Jack was not at all surprised. He was even ready to be annoyed. But the thief had stolen the bacon fried corn... Jack shouted instead, "Alert the neighbors!"

James did no such thing as Jack tackled a now angry and suddenly shouting Sardosi princess to the ground. And good thing, too because Jesse's first instinct was to attack the nearest living thing in a quest to reclaim her pork products.

Rather than sound the alarm James was standing at his side of the table, the Doctor to his left doing the same. Each one had out a sonic device, holding it out and attempting to trace and reverse the signal of the teleport.

Jack was struggling on the floor with the hungry, vengeful Jesse. "Don't think I can hold her!"

"Keep trying," The Doctor said. James added, "You're doing fine dad."

A few more moments and Jesse managed to get free. At that exact second the food thief returned. And he was quite surprised.

Especially when he was immediately grabbed by Jesse, hissing and growling. She sniffed him for any trace of the bacon fried corn. Jack got to his feet, claw marks in his face and on his arms already healing as he attempted, and succeeded, to restrain her again.

"Graske..." the Doctor said, looking away from Jack's bloodied face. Though he knew the Captain could, and had recovered quickly... He still didn't like to see it. He managed to cover his discomfort easily enough. "Should have known."

James eyed the Christmas Dinner Thief. "Why do you keep stealing our dinner?" he demanded in his best authoritative soldier voice.

"Cannot say," the alien replied, glancing apprehensively towards Jesse. "Big cat dangerous."

"Very," the Doctor agreed.

James smirked. "And she usually only listens to me. So answer my question or she'll gobble you up."

"James!" the Doctor snapped at him.

The Graske looked around and figured the Doctor was the least of his worries. "Cannot say. Hurry back. Bring clean bowl."

"Let her go, dad."

At this the Graske shouted in fright, and then said "Torchwood send!"

This intrigued the three men. "Torchwood?" Jack asked as he tightened his hold on Jesse's arms behind her back. "Why?"

"Say too much."

"Jesse..."

The Graske yelped. "Okay okay!" He looked at James. "You send. Want food but cook sick. Send me to take. Send again to return."

The Doctor understood, and so did Jack. They had each encountered Commander Harborne, leader of Torchwood 3 in their travels. The Doctor gave a small smile. "Yeah..." he said."Sounds like something he'd do."

Jack agreed. "He had to do something. Poor man can't cook without burning the house down."

James didn't quite understand. But... he sort of did. He'd heard stories of Torchwood growing up. Mostly from the Doctor. And no stranger to time travel himself... He sighed. "Could you do us a favor?" he asked at last before his parents could say more.

"Bring back the damn bacon corn!" Jesse hissed angrily. "Or I'll eat your soul!"

"She'll do it!" James said quickly. "Neighbor's dog... poor thing..."

"Okay okay!" the Graske exclaimed. The Doctor used his sonic to unblock the teleport and sent the poor alien on his way. Soon the bowl was returned with two thirds of its contents missing. But thankfully, not empty.

Jack released Jesse and the girl pounced the table, grabbed the bowl, and then leapt to a counter. She remained there for the remainder of the meal. Afraid of what may happen, Jack, James, and the Doctor all sat together on the side of the table furthest from her.

Thankfully things had settled down in time for banana cream pie.

"Well," James said, a dollop of cream on his fork. He glanced at Jesse, who seemed placated. He was still cautious. "That's one Christmas mystery solved."

"Indeed," the Doctor responded. "You know, we haven't explored the sandwich possibility of satsumas..."

The Time Lord and his half-Boe son returned to their ongoing conversation of the moldy sandwich between slices of pie.

**o0o**

After dinner the Doctor had volunteered to do the cleaning. James helped. At least he tried. Until he kicked the Doctor out of the kitchen for criticizing how he washed dishes. As well as Jack's kitchen organization.

So, kicked out, the Doctor wanted aimlessly through the house looking for something to do.

Before he realized he'd been looking for him, he found Jack. He was seated in the front, formal living room, still minus its couch. The man was seated in a comfortable looking chair with needles in his hands. A basket of yarn was to the side of his chair.

The Doctor leaned with his shoulder pressed against the wall, arms crossed over his chest as a small radio played nearby. He watched Jack a while, smiling some. "BBC radio," he said eventually. "Didn't think you could get a signal out here. Well... in this storm."

"I'd be watching TV if someone hadn't let it run off," Jack replied, still knitting. His sarcasm was laced with an endearing humor.

"We told you not to buy it. Slitheen never cut a fair deal." The Doctor continued to watch him in mild fascination. In all the years he'd known Jack... He never knew he was into fiber arts.

Or that he was any good at it. "You're handy with those," the Doctor said after a while more.

"Had to be," Jack replied. "Should see me make socks. Fastest needles in the regiment."

"That so?" the Doctor asked, brow raised. "How did you come across this bit of domestic crafting?"

"My second run of WW2. They made us all learn to save money for ammunition."

The Doctor shook his head. "Bloody humans..." he said softly to himself, then pushed away from the wall.

Jack didn't look up as he continued knitting, the blue yarn periodically pulled from the center of a skein in his basket. The Doctor put his hands on a chair and pushed it closer. Then he sat, pulling long legs into the seat and crossing his ankles. Elbows on knees, chin resting in his hands.

"How long is this storm going to last?"

Jack shrugged and swapped needle positions to begin a new row. "Radio says New Years. Computer says a day or two."

"I don't think I could stand even one more."

"Eager to leave already?"

"No," the Doctor said quickly, defensively. But at Jack's small smile he relaxed again. The other man's question wasn't made in accusation. It was merely... conversational. "No. But I've got to check on the TARDIS. See the extent of the damage. Start the repairs..."

Jack nodded. He understood the concern. The TARDIS wasn't just his home and his ship. She was a companion. A sentient being. And she was injured. "We can scout out the roads in the morning. If we can get there, see how deep she's buried in the bank."

"Thanks."

Silence fell between them again as the Doctor watched. Jack only stopped once, having come across a tangle in the yarn.

There they sat for much of the evening in this fashion. Both men listening to the radio and the clacking of Jack's metal knitting needles. The Doctor looking on with great interest as he tried to puzzle out what Jack was making. And Jack, silently amused by the expressions that crossed the Doctor's face as he concentrated hard on the blue mass piling up in Jack's lap.

**o0o**

Jesse lay on her back horizontally across James' bed, looking through her book and studying bacon recipes. Her male counterpart opened the door with a box in his hand and two plastic bottles under his arm.

"How's Rose?" he asked.

Jesse glanced towards the blanket pile where the Barcelona Retriever had spent her time after returning home the day before. "She yipped a few times."

He shut the door and tossed the box towards her. It landed on the bed. "She's still sleeping off the medication." He moved to sit on the side of his bed and open one of the drinks. "I'll check her vitals before bed."

Jesse turned the page in her book. "So..." she said. "The lovebirds?"

"I exist, don't I?" he said back with a dark laugh.

"Doesn't prove anything. We could all just be fictional people in some sort of Bookworld somewhere."

"And _that's_ why you're never allowed to pick up another _**Thursday Next**_ book."

She closed her book and lay it beside her. Then she turned a striped face to look at him. "You know what I mean, James."

He wouldn't look at her. "I know..." He took a swig from his bottle, then grunted. "I swear, if those two were left to sort things out themselves they'd still be complaining of unrequited feelings for centuries."

Jesse smiled and sat up. He passed her the other bottle. Grape, she noticed. Eh, it was better than nothing. "So they're getting on well?"

"Understatement of the decade. Probably waiting for us to go to sleep." He sighed. "But yes. Amazing what remotely engineering a timing malfunction with the help of the TARDIS can do."

She narrowed her eyes in suspicion. "So you _did_ do it on purpose."

He shrugged, turning towards her. "It was the ships idea, honest. I just... helped give it a bit of a nudge. A perfect machine can't manufacture human error. Well... sentient humanoid creature error at any rate."

"Sure..." she said, eyeing him still. "And I'm the Queen."

"Not yet. But someday," he said, sipping his drink to keep from saying more.

"I still get to rip into Greggory," she said matter of factly. "Twice as much now since I know you did it on purpose."

He nodded and grabbed the box he'd brought in, offering it to her. "You can test these when you do."

She took the box and opened it. Inside lay a pair of gloves. Colored to match the pigment of typical human skin. At closer examination she found the tips of each finger split beneath the thin translucent plastic of the false nails, this was so her real ones, she was sure, could jut out if she needed them to without destroying them. The texture as she held them felt strange. It wasn't rubber, nor was it plastic. It was so lifelike and felt almost perfectly real.

"James?..." He voice was soft as she looked at him.

"Go ahead. Try them on. I've been working on them for months. I call it SynthSkin."

Cautiously she pulled one on. It stopped just below her elbow. After a few moments it tightened on her arm. She could feel a slight pressure. But it didn't hurt. It just felt a little tight...

As if sensing her thoughts, James said, "It'll loosen with wear and mold to the shape of your arms." He took her hand in his own.

She had expected the thick, cumbersome bulkiness of gloves. The lack of true feeling in her fingers as they slid across his knuckle. Wide eyed in awe, she stared at her hand in his. "I... I can feel..."

"Good. I was hoping the micro sensors would work. They were a late addition to the design." He was handling it as clinically as a scientist performing an experiment. His mind focused on the details, on the product flaws and design rather than his friend's reaction. "How different is it from not wearing anything?" he asked.

"A little... awkward. For instance, I your knuckles I can feel. I can feel the pressure as I squeeze your hand. I can pick out the major bones in it. But... little things. Like the lines in your palm," she said, turning his hand over and tracing the lines with her fingertips. "Nothing."

He nodded, jotting down mental notes as she told him about her experience with the new glove. "Good... Good. I'll make adjustments for the rest of the suit then. Make it more sensitive to pressure and depth."

She blinked at him, then stared in disbelief. "A... a suit? As in arms, legs? Face?"

He shrugged. "I was bored. And you can't really go out in the rain with your make-up on so..."

She wrapped her arms around his neck, hugging him tight before laying a big wet kiss on his cheek. Her sudden emotional outburst of what he had hoped was gratitude caught him by surprise. Naturally he had jumped some, and their drinks spilled all over him and the bed. But Jesse didn't care.

"Thank you," she said. "Thank you so much. You don't... You don't know how much this means to me."

"More than bacon?" he asked, becoming a little more comfortable in her arms.

She nodded, brushing his shoulder with her chin.

"More than Jack's cooking?"

"Yes," she said quickly.

"More than wanting to claw my ex-boyfriend's eyes out?"

She pulled back to arm's length with a very sneaky smile. "Are you kidding me? These things will only make it more fun!"

He sighed. "Well... had to try." He got to his feet and turned to pull her up to her's. "Come on. Need to change the sheets. We let them stain and dad'll have kittens."

* * *

><p><em><strong>AUTHOR NOTES<strong>_  
><strong>1.<strong> Knitting Jack. Yes, it makes perfect sense. And yes, during WW2 there were platoons and such that were forced to learn to knit socks. This is a historical FACT. I learned it in my high school history class, and it's one of the very few things I remember from it. So yes, since Jack was in WW2 not once, but TWICE... this makes perfect sense.  
><strong>2.<strong> Don't own the Bookworld. See, it's from this series of books that I highly suggest you all read. Just go to google, type in "Thursday Next series" and there you go. Start reading those books. They are AWESOME.  
><strong>3.<strong> Knitting Jack is making a gift for the Doctor. Won't tell what it is here. Not till Knitting Jack finishes it. BUT if you want to know that badly, read the story White Lies and Telescopes... somewhere in there the 11th Doctor makes an unusual gift request late at night in a Wal-Mart store.


	7. Chapter 7

**Title:** Domestic Holiday  
><strong>Series:<strong> The James Harborne Tales  
><strong>Fandoms:<strong> Doctor Who/Torchwood  
><strong>Fic!Verse:<strong> Resurrection!Verse  
><strong>Pairings:<strong> 10/Jack  
><strong>Author:<strong> Z-sama (dA user _the-lady-harkness_)  
><strong>Beta:<strong> TWTL

_**DISCLAIMER: We don't own Torchwood. We don't own Doctor Who. We wish we could own them both, but we can't. Hell, we'd settle for the K9 spin-off pilot that failed many years ago... but sadly, we can't have that either. All of that is owned by the BBC.**_

* * *

><p>After watching a comical show of James and Jesse wrestling bedding through the house as they were trying to take them to the wash, and then go back to his room with fresh linens and blankets, Jack had finally put his needles down and packed away the basket.<p>

They waited for the sounds of teenagers to settle down before retreating to the safety of Jack's bedroom.

Like two lovesick teens that'd just discovered how to fill their free time, once that door closed and locked behind them they got right to it. They were far less awkward than the previous night. Slower, more careful. More heated.

Each eager touch, each kiss, each whisper was filled with more tenderness than Jack had ever known. He had never thought the other man even capable of such things.

The previous night had been fast and heavy. The rush of contact, the desire and need for release had been the driving force. But not tonight. Tonight was subdued. It was calm and warm and filled with all the things the Doctor had coerced himself into believing he really didn't need nor want.

And of course afterwards, near 3AM the Doctor had made a run for food. When he came back, the last of his late night snack of turkey and half a stuffing muffin hanging out of his mouth, he wasn't surprised to see Jack was still awake, waiting for him. The scrawnier man unceremoniously licked his fingers, shucked off his borrowed pants for the second time that night, and climbed in under the blankets.

Jack's arms comfortably slipped around his waist and his head rested on the Doctor's chest.

They talked about nothing. And everything. About distant worlds and Earth, their mutual adopted home of sorts.

Jack was the first to fall asleep, lulled to slumber by the dual rhythm of the Doctor's double hearts. The Time Lord watched him a while before kissing the top of his head and closing his eyes to rest.

**o0o**

_"...Maple Ridge is the best bet. Mostly downhill. Gravity can do all the work if you put the old thing in neutral."_

_"What about Burnt Hickory?"_

_"Are you crazy? That'll take us too far out-"_

_"But the satellites show it's passable."_

Voices carried through the open doorway of the master bedroom. The Doctor rolled over onto his back with a groan, but was unable to go back to sleep. He was on holiday, and that meant he didn't have to wake up early. So why couldn't he just close his eyes and...

_"Okay, okay. We may be able to take the truck as far as Petit Creek if we take the old Dixie Highway. But I don't think..."_

The Doctor sighed and poked his head out from beneath the warm covers. Hair was poking out in crazy directions.

Sitting up against the pillows he let the blankets fall to his waist. A glace toward the dresser and it was obvious clothes were not laid out for him as in the days before. No matter.

When he finally convinced himself it would be a good idea to get out of bed he caught a whiff of himself and pulled a face.

Firstly, he stank of sex. That was most apparent, as it was a smell he hadn't had the pleasure of smelling on himself for quite a while. And it would not do to mingle with the others smelling like that. Secondly, he did smell a bit... foul. He hadn't had a proper shower since...

Well, he wasn't sure, so that was probably a good indication to pursue better personal hygiene.

As the Doctor was pulling on the borrowed pajama pants he chastised himself for not making the time to take better care of himself. It wasn't that he was averse to hygiene... he just tended to forget, what with all the universe saving and dalek destroying. When he had companions he mused, it wasn't so hard a thing to do. But left to his own devices...

_"...settled. We'll have to get horses. It's the only way."_

_"So I'll call them up. The Macabees still owe us a favor after James sorted out that mess with the Absorbalof and the llamas."_

The Doctor poked his head out of the room, hearing Jack and Jesse discussing roads, snow, horses, and something about llamas. But not even a peep out of James.

"Probably still in bed. Sleeps like the dead," he told himself as he made the short trip to the bathroom.

He reached for the knob, only to have the door open inward. Steam billowed out and the Doctor stepped back as James came out. Wrapped at the waist in a towel, drying his damp hair with another.

They stared at each other in awkward silence a moment. Then, the Doctor noticed something strange. Something he both recognized and knew couldn't possibly be there.

As if sensing his thoughts James draped his extra towel over his shoulder to hide the impossible scar, shaped like one of those bizarre Gallifreyan symbols he'd seen on the TARDIS, from him. "Left you a bit of hot water," he said. "Rummage in my closet when you're done. I think I've a few more pairs of clean pants left. Somewhere."

The Doctor shuffled to the side out of his way and watched the teen as he whistled all the way to his room. Then he went into the bathroom and shut the door behind him.

Forty-two seconds later Jesse and Jack heard a surprised cry from the bathroom. Followed by a wicked cackle from James' room.

The boy had indeed left some hot water...

Only 41 seconds worth.

**o0o**

After a rushed breakfast of leftovers, a rather heated argument between James and the Doctor over hot water, and a call to Petit Creek Farms the four of them were in Jack's truck and navigating the snow covered roads.

James had been silent the whole ride, sitting in the cramped space of the passenger seats at the back of the cab. He didn't mind the closeness of the space; he just didn't like his present company. Except Jesse. He never minded her, as she was always an amusing distraction. And an alien, different like himself.

"I don't see why I had to come," he finally muttered when the Doctor found a pause in his words.

Jack chanced a glance at him in his rearview mirror. "Because I don't trust you at home alone. Not since a SWAT team kicked in the doors looking for the Canadian Ambassador's prize winning poodle and finding instead two very distracted teenage boys. You could have at least put down a towel or something. It took me hours to clean that up."

Jesse snickered. James was bright red, his groan of "Daaaaaaad..." was lost as the Doctor exclaimed, "He was doing WHAT?"

The rest of the slow and arduous ride to Petit Creek was filled with the story of the Canadian Ambassador's missing poodle, a stolen phone, a hacked social networking account, and two very bored teenagers pirating X-rated channels through military satellites. They did NOT have the prize winning poodle.

The entire time the Doctor sat, wide eyed and for a change speechless. Jesse was laughing, and Jack was trying to keep his truck on the road. James had closed his eyes and prayed to whatever in the universe happened to be listening in on his particular telepathic wavelengths that someone or something would kill him so thoroughly that he would not get back on his feet for six months.

As it happened, a text message came through on his cell phone just when Jack was getting to the part about prank calling Canada and posing as the assistant to the Director General of New Dixie.

He didn't recognize the number, but thought it to be quite odd and slightly amusing given his previous thoughts.

It read as thus:

_Sorry mate, Cthullu is on vacation at the moment. The Daleks were destroyed (for now) and there are currently no wars taking place in your galactic sector. Sit down, have a hot cup of tea, and call again later._

A few seconds after he cleared the LCD screen, he received a follow-up text from the same number. It said:

_We do apologize for the inconvenience. We understand that your time is very valuable, Commander Harborne, and we value you as a customer. Understand that scheduling a good death is sometimes quite difficult. May we suggest a good old fashioned maiming? There is currently a 2-for-1 special on ginger psychopaths. And our professional Sontaran Grade maiming can't be beat._

He made a mental note to share these with the TARDIS later in the day. Mostly because he knew she liked a good laugh at coincidences. But also because he wanted to trace the number and find out where, or possibly when, it may have come from.

**o0o**

They had actually ridden horseback into town. Jesse hadn't been too keen, but rode with James anyway. When they arrived at the old library James had undone the chains on the doors and led the horses inside out of the cold. It was tricky, but he'd managed to bribe them with some jelly babies.

Returning to the group he watched Jack and the Doctor digging in the snow where they thought the TARDIS may be hidden.

"Apparently," Jesse said by way of explanation. "The TARDIS is buried. And normally the heat it gives off would prevent this."

"But it's not working," the Doctor called. "You can lend a hand any time."

"No no," James said. "You're doing fine. Smashing job. Really."

"James," Jack said in a warning tone. "Start digging."

"I'll pass."

"Should I tell him about your arrest record?"

At this, the Doctor stopped digging to turn and frown at him. Jesse snickered. And James jumped headfirst into the snow. He was digging frantically.

"Arrest record?" the Doctor asked, but Jack didn't elaborate as his threat had the desired effect.

Within an hour of James joining the excavation the TARDIS was found, dug out, and both doors were thrown open to reveal the console room, a bit better off than it had last been seen, and running on emergency power.

"Blimey," the Doctor and James said as one while staring into the TARDIS.

Jack made a sort of _tut-tut_ noise as he peered into the cavernous room from between them. "Those scorch marks are never going to come off."

**o0o**

They spent the rest of the daylight working inside. Repairing panels, sweeping up broken dishes in the kitchens. When the sun started to set the teens bailed. Taking the horses with them.

Jack and the Doctor were left to toil into the night.

"Ah! There we go!" the Doctor cried, hitting a switch. "Main power reserves restored!" The TARDIS gave an appreciative hum under his expert fingers. Various lights and buttons blinked on and off.

"Told you it was the temporal displacement field," Jack said smugly. "You can't use improbability technology with the hyperspace navigation conduit. Especially while making tea."

"But-"

"Doctor," he said, stroking a bit of the console. His subconscious act was not lost on the Time Lord, but he couldn't allow himself to think on it more. Not right now. "Did you learn nothing from the cautionary tale that is Arthur Dent? You can't make tea in hyperspace. It's impossible."

"Ah," the Doctor said, doing his best to keep his thoughts on the problem at hand and not the various things he could do with his hands. He had to keep his mind on something else. Anything else but Jack. He busied himself with an unnecessary environmental check. "Well, you know me. The laws of physics say impossible. I say it's just Tuesday."

"So you didn't consider the possibility of a total systems failure-"

"Timing malfunction," the Doctor corrected him, and then was struck with an idea. "Timing malfunction!"

"You said that."

He had his screwdriver out and had rounded the console, shoving Jack out of the way as he went to work. "Why didn't I realize it before!"

Jack would have replied but an entire section was removed and thrust at him. "Hold this," the Doctor had said. "All I have to do now is rest! Last time this happened it was 1999 and I had to get my hands on some beryllium-"

"So that _was_ you!" Jack exclaimed, recalling the news articles the hub computers had red flagged for attention. But he'd had other... more pressing matters to attend to that New Year's Day.

"Yes," the Doctor replied, pulling out all sorts of wires and cables. Working on them with his sonic screwdriver. "The Master was executed. I was taking his remains back to Gallifrey. Turns out he was just turned into very potent and very angry goo. Strangely we had a temporary cease fire agreement with the Daleks. They said they'd stop trying to exterminate us if we handed over the Master. Never did figure that out... Mind you we weren't at war with them yet. At least, not from our perspective of time."

Jack peered at him over the piece of paneling he was holding, and blinked. This was a development. He'd never expected to hear anything about the Time War. Even just a small detail like this was more than what he and Martha had managed to prise out of him. "Doctor..." he said, unsure of how to respond.

"Anyway," the Doctor said, and Jack knew it meant the subject was closed again. "When the Eye of Harmony went I had to improvise. It threw everything Belgium. The chronomapping dynamic depended on the Eye to stabilize the temporal discrepancies and identify a sort of _real time_ present period on Gallifrey. Without it we're adrift with no sense of the present." He connected a mass of wires to a clump of cables. "So I had to install a backup. Set it to another planetary cycle. Not entirely accurate, but it puts me back to the same time period. Mostly. Usually. More often than not."

Jack narrowed his eyes suspiciously. He understood him. Understood the explanation and every word. And it annoyed him. "You dumbed it down. It's more complicated than that, and you're talking to me like I'm just another witless companion of yours."

The wires he'd just connected sparked, and the Doctor jumped back to keep from getting zapped.

Next to Jack a small part of the console rose up to expose a sort of mini-tube. Like at the drive through at the bank. But it looked more high tech and familiar.

The Doctor grinned. "I got the idea from watching **Wall-E**. That part near the end when they're trying to put the shoe and the plant into the thing. And all the fat people are sliding and bouncing around."

"...Well," Jack started. "At least you didn't build a self-righteous autopilot."

"Oi! I thought that was a great idea!... Not my fault it developed into the Borg collective. You've got that kid of ours to blame for that."

Jack thought about this for a moment. His time spent working for the Time Agency, the parts of it he could remember, he'd come across those terrible organic machines. Had nearly become one a couple of times. He was suddenly angry, and knew it was silly, but he couldn't help it. "What kind of... You agreed **not** to get him involved in interstellar conflicts. No wonder he can't stop throwing himself headfirst into danger."

"What's that supposed to mean?" the Doctor said back on the sudden defensive, looking at him now.

"You know exactly what it means," Jack snapped. "Human. We agreed. Normal. Slow path. In return I let you take him on short _educational_ trips. Short hops only."

"You know better than anyone it doesn't work like that, Jack. I can't control the universe. Things happen. Sometimes they don't, sometimes they do. Sometimes they're great, and sometimes it's running from a pack of bloody bureaucrats trying to force you to go to court for unpaid parking tickets! Which, I remind you, are trumped up charges!" The Doctor quickly saw that his point was getting away from him, rather quickly. And so he roped it back in again. "The point is that if something happens, and I'm there, and I can help, I have to. I'm a time traveling space hero, and I can't just pack it in because it's my weekend with the boy."

Jack opened his mouth to protest, but the Doctor, ever faster on the fine art of talking and talking managed to get his words in first. "And you knew that about me from the moment we met so don't try to make me out to be the big bad reckless alien here."

The pair of them lapsed into a tense silence and started working at opposite ends of the control room. After a few more hours Jack, frustrated still, slipped away to find his old room. Unfortunately every door he opened led not into his familiar, comfortably cramped bedroom on the TARDIS. Instead every single door, even one he swore was supposed to lead into a coat closet, led to a rather cramped room with a double bed and scientific equipment scattered across workbenches. Experiments lining shelves with books obviously not translated by the TARDIS, as the spines were covered in various circles that reminded him of James's childhood doodles.

He didn't need to see the dirty suits haphazardly tossed on the floor in piles of forgotten, or ignored, jackets and trousers to know who's room it was.

He was, actually, a little surprised it was so... lived in.

"Damnit," he muttered under his breath, finally giving in and going inside. After all, he just wanted to sleep and one bed was just as good as another.


	8. Chapter 8

**Title:** Domestic Holiday  
><strong>Series:<strong> The James Harborne Tales  
><strong>Fandoms:<strong> Doctor Who/Torchwood  
><strong>Fic!Verse:<strong> Resurrection!Verse  
><strong>Pairings:<strong> 10/Jack  
><strong>Author:<strong> Z-sama (dA user _the-lady-harkness_)  
><strong>Beta:<strong> TWTL

_**DISCLAIMER: We don't own Torchwood. We don't own Doctor Who. We wish we could own them both, but we can't. Hell, we'd settle for the K9 spin-off pilot that failed many years ago... but sadly, we can't have that either. All of that is owned by the BBC.**_

* * *

><p>James and Jesse had not gone straight home. They'd returned the horses, groomed and fed them, then left in Jack's truck.<p>

They had gone instead to James' lab, where Jesse gleefully tried on the skin suit her dearest friend was developing for her.

"A bit tight on the face," she said, poking at her cheeks.

He looked up, eyes enlarged through the magnifying goggles he wore. The sight reminded her of those old Japanese programmes they used to show before, when she was still a youngling. His brown eyes were just so... **BIG**.

"It's a prototype," he said. "Of course it's not perfect. Like I said, it'll all loosen with wear. It has to mold to your shape."

He looked back down at the wad of silver cloth in his hands. But it wasn't cloth, she knew. It was a form of elastic metal he had developed. The part of the suit that made it do the amazing things like feel and react.

"James," she said, looking away from him and back at her gloved hands. She played with the slits at the fingertips, finding they had been positioned to allow her retractable claws through quite easily.

"Hn?" he hummed, not paying much attention to her in favor of his work.

"This is a _full body_ suit, yet?" Immediately after she said it, she sensed the air change. Clearly she had made her friend suddenly uncomfortable.

"Yes," he said as evenly as he could. "I've extensively researched a variety of body types, pigmentations, species-"

She giggled. "Is **that** what they're calling it these days?"

He could feel his face flush with embarrassment. "Purely scientific research," he insisted.

Jesse continued to giggle. "Sure it was... And I'm the space pope."

**o0o**

Shortly after Jack had left him in the console room the Doctor was able to fully focus on the work at hand. But the TARDIS had other ideas. What parts of her controls that were still active suddenly went dark.

The Doctor ran a circle around the panel containing the viewer. "No no no no no!" he exclaimed, pulling out wires frantically and trying to fix the problem. When he did, she sparked at him angrily.

"Oi! I'm only trying to help!"

All the red buttons lit up at once before cutting off again.

"...Red. Red... You're upset. I know. But if you don't-" He went for the panel again, and she sparked. This time he was able to wrap his long fingers around a cable...

Only to have her shock him in response.

The Doctor jumped back with a yelp, holding his injured hand at the wrist. "Stop it!"

She flashed every red button and light she had. All at once. And she left them on to make it perfectly clear exactly how upset with him she was.

The Doctor growled, storming off. If he couldn't work in _this_ console room to fix the stubborn old girl, he'd just go and find the secondary, or even the tertiary console rooms. Less distractions in those anyway.

The TARDIS, of course, knew his intentions. And she wasn't going to make it easy for him.

**o0o**

James glanced across the living room to his friend. She was sleeping peacefully on the sofa, an arm and a leg hanging lazily off the edge.

Rose had finally emerged from his bedroom and sat in front of him while he examined her closely. She was content, and awake. Fully alert, he noted in his black notebook. This was good. Very good.

He had been so worried about losing her. Worried that she would die and there would be nothing he could do.

As if sensing his thoughts Rose leaned in and licked his face, her brown eyes staring right at him. And in a way, James understood. She was reassuring him. Telling him his worry was misplaced and ridiculous.

He checked her vital stats again before pocketing his sonic screwdriver. "Only slightly radioactive... We'll have to do another course of treatment before that uranium's out of your system."

He grinned, and she licked his face again. Scratching behind her ears, he stood. "Now then, seeing as how my usual lab assistant is sleeping I think I may need your help on something."

Rose yipped happily, her tail wagging as she trailed behind him towards his bedroom.

**o0o**

James and Jesse arrived at the TARDIS around midday on the 27th. Rather than travel by horse, James had cashed in on another favor and gotten snow mobiles. Two of them. Jesse had approved of this idea, mainly because she didn't have to ride the smelly horses again.

They let themselves in, using James' key (taken from the Doctor when he'd been stuck in bed days ago) and found the control room empty.

"Hello!" James called, shutting the doors behind them. The TARDIS hummed in response.

"Doctor!" Jesse called. "Jack!"

No answer. The teens looked at one another and shrugged. Removing their parkas, they left them draped over a coral beam near the walkway leading to the controls. Jesse unwrapped her scarf and tossed it over a rail as she passed.

James left his on but loosed it some. He looked odd, wearing a short-sleeved shirt with snow goggles seated atop his messy brown hair, knitted blue scarf hanging from his neck and matching fingerless gloves on his hands.

"Maybe they went to take a break," Jesse suggested as he friend started poking at random controls. "And don't do that! You could end up getting us in trouble! Or worse, land us in with the dinosaurs!"

He shrugged. "I'm just trying to see where they got to."

"If they're _both_ not here, I don't think you really want to know..."

"Don't be such a prude, Jess. I'm not some silly little child. I understand that if certain things don't take place, I don't exist. So their... whatever they have, is an awkward yet necessary evil. If only for my own continued existence."

Jesse puffed out her cheeks in annoyance. In her opinion what went on between her friend's parents was a beautiful thing to be treasured and admired. But for James it was only data. A means to an end. Something to be studied, categorized, and placed on a time table. She wished humans... or variations close to them, could feel the vibrations she felt. Could sense the changes in air pressure and visualize the expressions that matched them. Decipher the emotions behind a simple sigh. Maybe then, if he could do these things, he'd understand what she had so clearly seen from the start.

Instead, she sighed and crossed her arms over her chest. "You take all the fun out of the mysteries of emotions."

The TARDIS hummed her agreement.

James moved to the scanner, not thinking that the cluster of circles weren't translated for him. Not thinking that he actually understood that ancient, lost language. Instead he was focused on the task at hand. "Found them. The Doctor's currently walking circles near the bowling alley and Jack's having a nap. Come on... Let's find them. I'd like at least one more decent meal before the year's over."

* * *

><p><em><strong>AN** _- Sorry for the short chapter. Currently we're juggling 4 different fanfic projects, on top of life itself so... yeah. Will do our best to make the next one a bit longer!


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